Wind in the North
by Otter Child
Summary: The Doctor has saved the world, and ended several journeys. He needs to clear his head. But the trip that was meant as a retreat has landed him in a place rife with dust, guns, fear and mystery.
1. Chapter 1

_**Author's Note: I hadn't intended to write AU, but this tale has decided to go down a divergent path. This is set in that very last moment of Journey's End, a moment when all roads are open. **_

Silence. So quiet. The sound of wet fabric peeling away was like a shout.

The Doctor stripped off his suit-coat, letting it drip rainwater.

_Well._

The hum of his ship was loud in his head. He released the handbrake.

_Alone again_.

He checked the thrusters, though the numbers barely caught his eye.

_Everyone's safe. Everyone well. Everyone somewhere they belong._

_Somewhere else. _

His fingers brushed over the controls, changing nothing.

_Donna. Five years. A life . All forgotten._

_Well, perhaps she'll be better. Home. And safe._

His head tipped back, eyes roving, uncomprehending, over the ceiling.

_And I've left her again. Lost her again. _

_I promised never to leave her._

He leaned against the console.

_Lost again. _

_Lost her again._

_I f I could have... if I could…_

His eyes stared off, far away. Something like a cry was building in his chest, unable to loose itself.

_Lost again._

He stilled. Hours passed. Perhaps days. Perhaps he'd never shift again.

_Lost._

A shock ran through his hand, drawing his attention. Rainwater had dripped from his tie onto the controls, which sparked and fizzled irritably.

The Doctor sighed. He supposed he'd better move.

1

"Oh come on, now!"

The Doctor rolled his eyes.

He'd reset the coordinates four times in the last two days. Four times! First the old girl had tried taking him to a little planet just on the other side of Betelgeuse. He sent her back into the Vortex. No need to lay his woes down on someone else, which is what he'd end up doing at this point.

She tried again while he was drinking tea, staring at the bright yellow wall of the kitchen. Earth, 1969. England. He reset the coordinates with quick, annoyed gestures. He didn't _want_ to see anyone. Not the Brigadier. Or anyone from UNIT, for that matter. And not someone new. _Definitely _not.

And again. He'd been napping, laid out on his sleeping mat. Sleep seemed very appealing today. The shake of the ship pulled him awake with a start, and the next judder shook him off his mat. He raced, half-dressed, to the console room, which had moved rather far away. Dirty trick. What was his ship trying to do now?

Set down on Balhoun, apparently. He groaned. He _absolutely_ did _not_ want to deal with the polite, ritualized discussion of Balhoun social salons. Interesting, yes. Easy to deal with, _no._

He shot them back into the Vortex, growling at his ship under his breath

"Ancient mad crackpot overbearing tin! Trying to tell me where I ought to go, you think I need to be told what to do, you're even older than me, and probably even madder, an' I'm tired of these hijinks, all right? Don't you try that again, meddling bin. In a minute I'm going to get the hammer and fix each of these controls in place, try and get out of that, if you can, you unreliable triply concussed…"

His ship gave off a wave of cranky amusement. She was happy to get him annoyed at the moment. Apparently she thought that he was better annoyed than whatever else he'd been lately.

_Apathetic_. The word leapt into his mind.

He was not apathetic. He was…tired. Very tired. He just needed to be alone for a bit, was all.

He turned on his heel, leaving the console room. Where had the kitchen gotten itself to?

…………………………………….

Three hours later, he was running back in, two fingers stuck in a jar of marmalade. Comfort food would have been nice, if he could get a minute to eat it. This wasn't the minute, apparently; the ship was going into another landing cycle.

"Where have you gotten to now?" he moaned, peering into the main monitor.

She'd tried for Earth again. Somewhere in England. Sometime in the Victorian era. Around December the twenty-second.

Christmas.

The Doctor closed his eyes. "Oh not again!! No,no,no,no,no! We are _leaving_! Right _now!_" He couldn't stomach a Christmas, not right now. He _wouldn't_.

What had the TARDIS come here for, though? He took a quick glance at the timeline-well, it was interesting, and there was something a little off, several points that could…

He shook his head, and set down the marmalade, releasing the handbrake, which resisted under his fingers. The TARDIS shook and rattled into the Vortex. Sparks shocked his fingers as he worked. There was the loud crack of shattering glass.

He sighed.

The TARDIS had made her point; if he didn't choose a destination, _she _would.

"Fine."

He needed somewhere quiet. Somewhere uninhabited. Somewhere… uncomplicated.

A list of planets ticked past in his mind. A few likely prospects. He picked one. Set the calibrations. Added another equation to the anomaly-dispersion, checked the phase-manipulator. Far out in the boondocks, it was. Third arm of a tiny galaxy. Century…he didn't particularly care. Set a random number.

The number changed. He glanced up at the central column, which glowed the way a guilty child whistles. The wires looped through the ceiling-grate quivered.

He gave a hint of a shrug. Well, let her pick the date, then.

Coordinates all ready to go. Nudge the ship in the proper direction.

The grating beneath his feet juddered as one of the stabilizers overcompensated. He rushed around the console, re-adjusting. Hold that with one hand, this with two fingers, those with the other three-oh, hadn't working with the proper number of pilots been a treat.

He shook his head against the thought, and braced his legs as the TARDIS pivoted through what felt like a chronal anomaly. He hated those.

And then the ship was still. The central column glowed.

With a quick pat for the console, he took his great-coat from the hat-rack, and opened the door.

Outside, yellow grasses stretched away to the horizon.

He stepped out.

_So quiet._

The view was the same in every direction, gilded by sunlight that poured over the plain. Low hills rolled up and away, meeting in the distance with a sky that went on forever. Nothing rose above the calf-high grass.

A breeze sighed around him, ruffling his coat.

The Doctor took a deep breath, his eyes closing for a moment.

_Yes. This will do._

He locked the TARDIS door, turned on his heel. And began to walk, leaving his ship standing tall and alone on the plain.

…………………………………………….

Breezes sighed, rippling the grass in waves. It crackled beneath his feet as he walked, snapping like straw. The steady sound of his footfalls served as a counterpoint to the sigh of the wind, punctuated by the cry of small birds disturbed in his passage.

He didn't think. His legs set a rhythm of their own accord. It was rare that he wasn't thinking of something. Or several somethings. But today he only moved through the world, observed. Color and shape, sound and silence.

Light brought out the layered colors of the grass, running the gamut from ivory-white to rich, deep brown. Seed heads attached themselves to his trousers, prickling at the skin beneath.

Birds cried as they threw themselves into the bone-dry air, whirls of color and sound.

"Wheep-wheep-wheep-wheep!"

"Cara-Ca! Cara-Ca!"

There were no markers here. No signs of direction or distance. No tree, no river. Just the grass; rolling, endless, ageless.

Small burrows changed the course of his steps. Once or twice he saw the builders; small fat rodents that chattered at him before diving into their holes, segmented lizards that darted away in clouds of kicked-up dust.

The red-gold sun kept pace with him, trekking across its infinite expanse of sky. The land beneath his feet tipped up, rolled down, swelled up again. His legs moved in constant measure, carrying him to the top of another rise. For a moment, he simply stood, letting the ever-present wind brush across his face.

Time stood still here. Not literally, he knew. He always knew. But there was agelessness about this world. No past. No future. Only the present; small animals living and dying, grass growing. And the wind, forever sighing overhead.

He walked on.

Peace sank into his mind, filtering through like drops of decontaminant in poisoned water. The constant breeze felt as if it was blowing not only around him, but through him as well, clearing out heat and confusion.

Small, bright clouds crossed the vault of the sky, dappling the land in light and shadow as the sun sank lower. It was setting faster than he had expected. He hadn't been walking that long, had he? Topping another hill, he turned, back the way he had come. Even with his rather good vision, he couldn't discern the merest speck of blue in the vast and rolling land.

He reached for the TARDIS in his mind. She was far away. Rather farther than he'd expected. In a mixture of sensation and information, she told him just how long he'd been gone. Almost eighteen hours.

Surprising. It hadn't felt like much time at all. He glanced up at the sky. It would be dark long before he reached the TARDIS. And he didn't fancy twisting an ankle or displacing a joint out here. That would hurt to repair.

He dug a hand deep into one of the inner pockets of his coat, searching, and smiled to himself as his long fingers grasped the edge of a space-blanket he'd tucked in there. Ought to have been a boy guide, he ought.

As darkness fell, he shook his blanket out, and stretched his long frame across it, staring up at the myriad of stars.

There were so many. Sometimes he forgot what just looking at them was like. Not cataloguing. Not analyzing. Just looking.

"_So which one are we going to?"_

"_That one-no…that one."_

The peace nearly dissipated.

He didn't need to think about that. He stored the memory away.

The arm of the galaxy rose in the east as the night moved on. Beautiful. He watched the stars dance overhead.

Once, he'd watched a sky like this, but then it had been filled with comets. Red, yellow, silver, purple.

A long time ago.

His eyes began to close, slowly. Just on the brink of darkness, something tickled the edge of his awareness.

But sleep gave him no time to riddle it out.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………..

The sun had not begun to rise when his eyes opened. Only the barest hint of grey on the horizon gave away its presence.

Slowly, light suffused the sky, tinting the clouds in greens and reds. Unseen birds sent up a bright chorus of greeting and calling, threat and defense.

Audubon had been right, he thought to himself. Birdsong was much prettier when you didn't know what it meant.

He stretched as the sun broke free of the horizon, standing as he moved, noting the bit of stiffness in his legs. His eyes roved out over a world just waking.

A little warning belled in his mind, snagging his awareness. He linked to his ship. She was safe. But she…missed him. Wanted him back.

Poor old thing. Well, he'd take a round-about way back to her, finish his little ramble.

The sun rose higher, and he followed its course on the ground. The wind rushed against his body. A bit stronger today.

It had been a few hours, and the TARDIS had calmed, knowing he was on his way. Topping another rise, he glanced down absently.

Then he stared.

Two things caught the Doctor's attention. First, the green. The yellow grass gave way as if cut by a blade, replaced by row upon row of green. Crops. Albeit spotted with brown and yellow, a little worse for wear, but definitely cultivated. Habitation. Somebody was living here. And-yes, there were long, low buildings, grey in the midst of the fields. And if he paid attention, he could pick up sentient minds, thinking minds. A few very close.

And then the distant wall of brown. A great cloud, towering on the horizon. He stared at it, his eyebrows rising.

"Ah. Sandstorm. This won't be fun."

A sound, distant and intermittent, cut the air. The Doctor's head jerked towards the noise. Was that weapon fire? He moved down the brow of the hill.

The grass crackled and snapped. Someone was running. He turned-

Arms wrapped tightly around his waist. _What the-_

Before he could move, his ears were filled with words.

"Oh, it's you, really is! I couldn't be sure, I just thought, up on the hill, and it couldn't be, but it is! It's you!"

Blue-black eyes sparkled at him, framed in a creamy face. The girl hugged him again-then her head shot up.

"Oh. Skirmish line forming. Got to go!"

She flashed a smile, releasing her hold and jogging away.

"Don't leave, I'll be back. And get into a combine before the sands hit!"

And the bright gold hair was disappearing through the crop field.

The Doctor's chest heaved.

Hair. Eyes. That smile. _Can't be._

His cognitive wheels seemed to have jammed. The face. He'd only seen it once in sunlight. And then it had been…

The memory clicked. The Doctor's eyes grew wide.

He drew another breath. The guns spattered. Just as they had on Messaline.

He breathed a word.

"_Jenny_."


	2. Chapter 2

2

Shots rang out, closer at hand. Puffs of dust spat into the air as bullets stuck the ground. The Doctor skipped back.

"Oh-oh. Time to-"

Dust spurted up near his foot.

_Run…_

He dashed for the nearest building, legs pistoning. Rapid spit-fire followed him down the field as he leapt and zigzagged, coat tails flapping. Bullets whined. He was almost there. Almost…

The door. He pounded on it.

"Let me in! Let me _in_!"

"Who is it?" a voice shouted from inside.

"I'm-ah-"

The gunfire kicked up. What could he say that would get him in the door?

"Jenny sent me! Open up! "

The door slid open a crack, allowing him just enough space to slip in. A bullet pinged off the frame behind him as the door closed. Leaning against it, he closed his eyes, catching his breath.

_Well, I've gotten my exercise for the day. _

"What the hell did you think you were doing?"

The rasp of a voice beside him drew his attention. He opened his eyes.

He was in a dim room, something like a cross between an aircraft hangar, a barracks and a canteen. Close to the door, wide trestle tables were laid out, many of them cluttered with mechanical parts. Further back, he could make out storage units and rows of beds, though the poor lighting gave only an impression of clutter near the other end of the long building. And the woman standing to his left demanded a bit more attention than the decor. She was glaring up at him, being quite a bit shorter. Somewhere in her middle age, the Doctor guessed. And not pleased with him. Distinctly not pleased.

The woman crossed her arms, her copper hair catching the dim light. It was amazing how formidable some small bipeds could appear when they had a mind.

"Well? Got an answer for me, bright boy?"

The Doctor's forehead creased.

"Sorry, what was the question?"

The woman's annoyance intensified.

"Why were you outdoors? You're no fighter, and the warning was sent for civilians ten clicks ago."

"Oh, I was just…" he shrugged-"taking a walk?"

"A walk?"

He nodded.

"Yep. A walk. Nice little walk. Really ought to finish it soon."

She was still staring at him.

"A walk."

Hadn't he said that?

The woman took a step closer to him, poking a finger against his ribs.

"Are you thick?"

His eyebrows rose.

"No…I'm actually rather clever. Most of the time."

The woman snorted.

"You're not showing it then. Out there-" She jerked a thumb towards the door, "You'll either get shot down or choked up. Taking a walk." She shook her head, then glanced up at him, scrutinizing.

"You the bloke we sent to combine six for?"

Humans, he mused, really were wonderful for providing the answers they expected you to give. He nodded, hands back in his coat pockets.

"Yep, combine six, that's me, I'm your man." He smiled, in what he thought- hoped-was a friendly and unremarkable manner. He wanted this woman to lose interest in him, and let him alone for a good think.

The woman studied his face dubiously.

"I'm goin' to talk to Orn about you."

He shrugged.

"Say hello to him for me."

The woman's brows drew together. A little trickle of confusion ran through her thoughts.

"Him?"  
_Whoops._

"Her, I mean."

Exasperation now. The glare was back.

"You're not thick. You're daft."

He smiled.

"If y'like."

The door behind them rattled under a deluge of pounding. The tigerish little woman gave him a last glower, and turned away.

"Who's there?"  
"Retle and Zeb! Open up,Dara!"

The woman-Dara, apparently-hit a small button on the door-frame, letting two young men dash in.

"Damn MOF's!" the shorter of the pair growled. Dara slapped him across the back of the head.

"Watch your tongue! What's the report?"  
The boy began to rattle off windspeeds and distances. It sounded like a report on the approaching storm. And something about the fighting. Little of it registered in the Doctor's mind. The information seemed to keep them pretty well occupied; the Doctor took the moment to wander further into the room. Now he could get to the business of thinking.

_Jenny._

She had been dead. Truly dead. No heart beats, no mental activity. No sign of regeneration. He'd seen them lay her out for burial.

The Doctor dropped on to the nearest bench. He was going to need to sit down for this.

She had been dead. Yes. But obviously, it hadn't been complete.

How could that be?

He ran fingers absently through his hair, thinking. She did have Gallifreyan DNA. His DNA. If she'd been a proper Time Lord, regeneration would have begun the moment her brainwaves failed. The bloody machine that created her probably made errors in her genetic code.

Yet she'd seemed perfectly healthy. More than healthy, actually. In peak physical shape. Perfect soldier.

_Soldier!_

He smacked the table as the realization hit him. That was it!

The Machine had been programmed to produce soldiers. _Human_ soldiers; produce them and furnish their minds with military knowledge and instincts. The Machine had done a good job on her biocellular information, a perfect job. But it had given her _human_ instincts.

And what does a human brain do when it's dying? It curls up, he answered himself. Plays possum. Put it together. A Gallifreyan brain can run anaerobically for twenty minutes. A Gallifreyan brain with a human instinct to shut down would function at the lowest level after hearts and lungs arrested, barely ticking over, until it ran out of oxygen and nitrogen and failed.

Which would set off a burst of psycho-kinetic energy, and kick the body into regeneration.

Yes!

But Jenny looked the same. Her genetic code hadn't reorganized as it repaired itself. Now that was a puzzle. How…

"Oi!"  
A hand slammed down on the table in front of him, snapping him out of his thoughts. Dara was glaring at him.

"What do you think you're doing?! We sent to combine six to get some help up here. An' you're lolling about!"  
The Doctor jumped to his feet, thinking that glower was unpleasantly familiar. He wondered if Dara was a mother. Probably.

"Sorry! Didn't mean to be a lay-about! Not really sure what you'd like me to do, but you tell me, an' I'll do it." He gave what he hoped was a relaxed, 'you-can-trust-me' smile.

Dara's frown deepened.

"Get over and watch the kiddies. That'll let Petra get some work done. Three of the little kids are sick, too. Check 'em first."

_Kids sick? Too?_

She gave a nod towards the center of the wide, dim hall.

"Get over."

This was sounding interesting. And it would serve to pass the time, until Jenny arrived.

He gave the shorter woman a nod, and headed in the direction she'd indicated, glancing around at the structure as he did. Typical forty-ninth century architecture, all plasticine-panel walls and triple-layer iran-stie struts. Definitely a prefabricated building. And one that was very hastily constructed; almost slap-dash work. If he listened, he could hear wind whistling through cracks between the wall and ceiling panels. This colony was getting off to a rocky start, and no mistake. It showed in the structure, in the tools and half-repaired mechanical bits lying on tables. It showed in the grim set to every face he passed. Skin stretched just a bit tight over bones. Eyes sharp and wary.

The children had been herded into a circle near the center of the building, where the long tables gave way to rows of cots. The kids, around fifteen of them, ran in age from infants to children just out of the toddler stage. He dropped to his haunches, long legs splaying out.

"Hello, little ones."

Small faces turned in his direction. He smiled-until a pair of boots blocked his field of vision, making him glance up. A thin, pale woman belonged to the boots. She stared down at him, a child in her arms.

"Hello! Lady by the door-Dara-she said I was t'come over and watch the kiddies for a bit."

The woman raised a brow, watching him as he stood.

"You sure?"

"Y'can ask her if you want."

The young woman looked him up and down. Then her shoulders lifted in a shrug.

"Fine. Keep an eye on this lil' tyke, I think he's got the Sands." She passed him the child, striding away.

The Doctor smiled at the small boy, who stared back at him with wide, dark eyes. The child coughed, breath rattling in his thin chest.

"Well that's not very good." The Doctor told the boy, "Sounds like you've got some respiratory trouble. C'mon-" he dropped himself into a sitting position on the ground, sitting the child in his lap. "Let's give you a check. You've probably got some nasty childhood thing. The Sands, is it? Amazing how many microbes like your species, 'specially when you're young."

Several other children had wandered over to see who this strange new adult was. The Doctor pulled a stethoscope and-oh, wasn't he lucky- a small biostat reader from one of his outer pockets. As he dug around, he sent a very low-level empathic signal to the children around him, reassuring. They relaxed, most of them turning back to their games. The Doctor smiled to himself.

_If only it worked so well on the adults._

The Doctor checked the child's pulse, heart rate, and respiration as the other kids played on the dusty floor. The boy's breathing was a bit poor, and there was definitely something up with his lungs. The raspy sound of their inhalation wasn't a good sign.

"Sands." The Doctor murmured, "Probably sand inhalation. Well, no wonder. Look at all the dust and grit in here. You kids are rolling in it. Your mum and dad and their friends did a pretty shoddy job of sealing this building against that dust. It's like 1930's America in here. If you come to a planet with sand storms, you ought to have a bit better sealant than this, even for the temporary structures... There, all done, my lad." He put his stethoscope away. He was going to have a chat with the medical officer here the moment he got a chance. They shouldn't have let the child's problem progress this far untreated.

There was a tug on the back of his great-coat. He turned his head, glancing at the small girl who'd taken a fistful of the fabric. She glanced up at him.

"Shirt. Big shirt."

"Coat." He corrected, "Rather nice coat. Lots of pockets. Full of interesting things. Maybe even-" he reached inside his breast pocket, and, sure enough, found a small bag of lemon drops.

"Ah! Here we are! Something for you."

The little girl took the candy in her free hand, staring at the bag.

"'Lellow."

"It is. Observant, aren't you?" He grinned at her. The child giggled.

The sound of gunfire spattered against the far wall of the building. The little girl's head snapped around, and her hold on his coat tightened. Children whimpered. A little blonde boy wailed.

The Doctor's smile faded. These children knew that sound. Young as they were, children of a brand new world, and they were familiar enough with gunfire to fear it.

Brand new planet, same old warfare. Did humans never learn?

Guns rattled. Another child started crying, and then half the group was in tears. The Doctor jumped to his feet.

"Hey hey hey, don't cry. You're all right. It's okay now, see?"

They were all frightened, and too young to understand why. It was wrong that these children had to feel fear because their elders couldn't work out their problems. Well, he could fix that at least.

He picked up the first wailing child, feeling her fear. Touching the girl's little hand, he soothed it away.

"You're all right."

He patted another child on the head, washing away his terror with a wave of security and comfort.

"See, that's better, isn't it?"

In a moment, the children were peaceful. The Doctor smiled.

His ears picked up a new sound; a loud, insistent spattering across the roof, rising and falling with the wind. Almost like rain, it drummed against the building.

Fists pounded on the hangar's door. Dara already had it open when he glanced in that direction, and was ushering a stream of people that ran inside, hands or shirts over their faces. At the very end of the group was Jenny, supporting another woman. Dara followed her as the girl hurried down the hall, moving in his direction. He caught their conversation as they drew closer.

"-got a lungfull at the last stand, just when we were coming back from the borderline."

"I'm-" the thin woman Jenny was helping started to speak, but whatever she was, it was lost in a fit of coughing.

"You're not all right." Jenny said, glancing down the hall. "You need medical attention. Is Kote here?"

"He's still seeing to someone in formation-shed two." Dara answered. " You're both daft not to carry masks, by the way. You get any of it in you, Good?"  
"I'm fine."

They moved past him, down the rows of cots, and passed through a curtain that encircled what he assumed were more beds. The curtain parted again, and Jenny almost jogged down the hall. She was a bit thinner than she had been, her dun-khaki uniform a little baggy on her frame. But her smile was bright as she stopped in front of him.

"Hello, Father."

He couldn't resist a grin of his own.

"Hello, Jenny."

For a moment, they stared at one another, grinning like loons. Then the girl grabbed him into a tight hug.

"I can't believe that you're here." She said, pulling away a bit to stare up at him. "I looked for you, out there. Everywhere I went I ran into stories about the Doctor. Just missed the man himself."

"Well, I'm a hard man to catch up to. Always moving, you know. How long's it been for you?"  
"Four years." She said, her eyes alight, "Can you believe I'm four years old? I _never_ thought I'd live that long."

He laughed, though a bit of him cursed the damn machine that had put ideas in her head.

"Oh, you'll live a lot longer than that, believe me. A _lot_ longer."

For a moment, she stared at him, her blue-black eyes huge. Her thoughts were so _loud_. Her emotions ran through his mind, unrestrained and undisciplined. So much yearning. A bone deep avarice to know, to _understand._ And such joy, because he could explain. A million questions were lining themselves in her head, and the first one she wanted to ask…the Doctor spoke, breaking the contact.

"So tell me what you've been doing! Well, living, obviously, which is quite the feat in itself. Later I want to ask you something,and-"

Dara marched up beside them, interrupting.  
"Good, you'll be needed in the third quad, that damn roto-tiller's broken down again. By the way, this lad-" she jerked a thumb at the Doctor-"said you sent him. Then he says he's medical staff. What's he doing?"

_When did I say I was medical staff? Didn't even give her a name._

Jenny turned to face the woman.

"Sorry ma'am, needed to get him inside."

The glower was back in Dara's face. Now it was focused on Jenny.

"Who is he, Good?"  
Jenny glanced up at him, and her wide, bright, unrestrained smile was back.

"He's my father, Sergent Dara. He came here to find me."

Dara turned to stare at him.

"Your father. Well, that's a spanner in the works and no mistake. Your ship workable?"  
She was addressing the Doctor this time.

"She is. But she's eighteen hour's walk from here."

"Eighteen hours?"  
"Yep. Long walk."

Dara stared at him as if he really was a spanner thrown into her mental workings. Confusion and just a bit of-hope? What for?

"Gonna have to talk to Combine One about this." She murmured.

Straightening, she turned back to Jenny.

"Good, you stay with the kids until William can relieve you. Then get over to Kote, if he's not back inside."

Jenny gave a sharp nod.

"Yes'm."

"And take him with you."

"Yes'm."

Nodding, Dara strode away.

The Doctor got the distinct feeling he was missing the details.

"What was all that about?

Jenny turned back to him.

"Reporting to command. Combine One needs to know all new information. And you've got a ship that actually works. You could be an awful lot of assistance."

"Assistance?" the Doctor asked. "What's the matter with their ships, then?"  
"Only one ship." Jenny replied levelly. "And it's scrap. Haven't been able to get a communication Earthward at all. Command will probably put together a message for you to relay. Will you do that?"  
"Oh, course I can. Least I can do. By the way, what scrapped the ship?"

Jenny shrugged.

"Command can debrief you."

_Commands and debriefings. That machine did a bang-up job. Wonder if she always talks in G. I. Jo._

"Millitary language." Jenny said abrubtly. "It's precise and it does the job."

The Doctor stiffened.

"Don't do that."

"What?" Jenny asked. She met his eyes.

"You may not like soldiers, but-"

"Really Jenny, _don't_."

Her eyes grew wide and hurt.

"What am I doing?"

Then it registered. Jenny was listening to his thoughts, but not intentionally. She was using her telepathy the same way she breathed. Without regulation, without any sort of discipline.

The Doctor took a breath, throwing up a quick barrier to keep her off anything deeper.

"Jenny, I didn't say anything about your word choices. I thought it."

Jenny blinked.

"But I heard you say-"

"You picked up my _thought._" He tapped his forehead. "We're telepathic, to a certain degree, and I think you're using that ability on instinct. You ever know what somebody's about to say?"

"All the time."

"There you are. Just- try not to do it on me, all right? Try not to wonder what I'm thinking. It's a bad habit to peek in on other telepaths. Like listening in on a conversation or walking in on someone in the shower, I suppose. Private stuff up in somebody's noggin. Not polite to go barging in. Though you do just skim the surface, so that's not so bad."

Jenny nodded, her eyes wide.

"How can that work?"

Where did he start? He couldn't give a proper explanation at the moment, not with her limited knowledge.

"It's mostly wrapped up in our biology. Later on we'll sit down and suss the whole thing out."

Jenny grinned "Great. Because I want to understand -oh, _everything_ I guess. I've got so many questions."

"I bet you do." The Doctor said. He took a seat on the dusty floor, providing a lap that was taken by a child in record time. "An' I've got a few questions m'self. How'd you get off Messiline?"

Jenny dropped, cross-legged, to the floor beside him.

"Borrowed a shuttle. Wanted to see what was out there."

"And what did you see?" the Doctor asked, leaning forward.

Jenny grinned, her eyes alight, and launched into her story. From the sound of it, she'd done all right. A bit of stellar hitchhiking had gotten her across three galaxies, in and out of any number of adventures, earned her a ship of her own. She'd picked life up as she'd gone along, taught herself three of the most common languages and quite a lot about ships, mechanics, and, unfortunately, even more about weaponry. And she'd loved every minute of it. The enthusiasm with which she spoke of her travels was contagious.

"You didn't!" the Doctor exclaimed. Jenny laughed.

"I did! Then I ran. I'm good at running. Fast. So I was okay."

"And wiser about decorum, I hope."

Jenny grinned.

"Yeah, after that, I asked more questions. 'Course, that got me thrown in a cell on Tellurix. Public indecency."

The Doctor smiled wryly. He remembered the cells of the insufferably prudish and gelatinous Tellur rather well.

"Did you ask what the women were doing with their scarves?"

Jenny shook her head, white-blonde hair swinging.

"No. I asked why I couldn't go in the pentangular houses. I tried to walk in, and all the sudden, bang, I was in a cell."

"You asked to go in-you asked…" The Doctor took a deep breath, trying not to burst out laughing. She'd asked for entry into a mating chapel. On Tellurix. Blimey.

"You're lucky all you got was a cell."

Jenny nodded. "They were really cranky when I got loose. But they don't have very strong doors."

He had a feeling he knew how she'd found that out.

"So is that how you ended up on this planet? Ran all this way because a couple of jellyfish called you a peeping tom?"

"No. That was almost a year ago. Four months back, I was leaving Avaram, sort of got into trouble there, and I didn't check the lineators. By the time I did I was almost out of fuel. Sort of aimed myself for the nearest planet, turned out to be this one. The landing was a bit rough, and I haven't been able to get the ship started since. Ended up giving it over for parts. What's a jellyfish, by the way?"

"Animal from a planet I frequent. Bears a striking resemblance to the Tellur, 'cept it's got no brain. Actually, never mind, the resemblance is apt. So you've been here four months?"

" it's been fine. The colonists took to me right away, and working in the combines has taught me a lot. In two or three days, I can show you around. You'll like the motor pool, and the excavations, and we'll have to go to Combine One, and the medical station down in Combine Six, that's neat. We're in Combine Four by the way; agriculture staff and tools are housed here. And then-"

The Doctor held up a hand, stemming the tide.

"Wait, wait, back up. Three days? Why three days?"

Jenny blinked.

"Because that's how long the storms go for. Two or three days."

"Three _days_?! You're seriously going to spend three days in here?"

"Well, you have to. The sands make navigation impossible. You get turned around. And the particles get right down into your pulmonary tissues. More than fifteen minutes out there and you've got the Sands. About that. I don't get the Sands. Why don't I get choked up?"

"Respiratory bypass system." The Doctor said absently, "Little trick our bodies use to protect our lungs and keep proper gas levels. You and I could probably stay out in it for around forty or fifty minutes if we have to. Three _days." _ He ran fingers through the dark thatch of his hair. "I can't leave the TARDIS for three _days._"

"TARDIS?" Jenny cocked her head.

"My ship." The Doctor replied, glancing around the wide room.

"Is there absolutely no way to move around?"

"There's the carriers. But they're just moving on programmed paths, set for each combine. What's wrong with your ship, that you don't want to leave it alone?"

"Not a thing. But it'll get lonely and cranky. By the way, Dara thought I was a medical worker. What do they need medics in here for?"

"A couple of cases of the Sands. We think. Pretty bad, bad enough that Medic Kote is worried. We get a couple of cases a month, but it's getting better, sort of. Ever since it rained." She gave him a smile that lit her face.

"It was beautiful, the rain. It happened three weeks ago, and again last week. The colonists told me it's never rained in three years. It only lasted around two hours either time. But it was great. Just great."

"This colony's three years old?" It looked barely finished. And if he remembered right, only medical students were called medics in this time period. Why was a student treating wounds? What was going on here?

Jenny nodded."Yep."

"And how did they grow crops without rain?"

"Hydro-formation pumps, behind this combine. They take up hydrogen and oxygen from the atmosphere and condense it into water. Working on them is great, though they're always acting up. But the meteorologists over in Combine Three say we're going to get even more rain from now on. Maybe we won't have to depend on the pumps any more. It's wonderful." She grinned widely. She was so proud of the work she had done here.

She glanced up, standing as an older man came over.

"Hey, William."

"Hey, Good."

Jenny glanced down at her father.

"We can go now."

The Doctor stood.

"So we're supposed to-" He paused. There was someone coming out of the curtained medical area. Jenny followed his glance.

"Oh not again-" then she was in motion. The need to act poured off her.

The Doctor followed her at a jog as she hurried to the man's side. As he drew closer, he noted that something was definitely wrong with the fellow. He was impossibly pale, his eyes too bright. A racking cough began deep in his chest, nearly doubling him over. Jenny reached out to steady the man.

"Tom. Tom!"

The man stared at her, his hand wrapping around her wrist with a desperate intensity, fingers leaving a red stain-was that blood?

The Doctor touched the man's shoulder. He was hot. Hotter than a human was meant to be. The man's head snapped around, wide eyes staring at him. His lips were speckled with red.

"It's all right." The Doctor murmured.

"You'll be all right."

The man looked back at Jenny. Then he took another look at the Doctor-and swung a fist.


	3. Chapter 3

3

"Hold his leg!"

"I am holding it! Watch-"

The man writhed in their grasp, bucking, lashing out in every direction. Jenny's words came too late. His arm was free again. The Doctor ducked out of the way, grabbing the man's fevered wrist as he moved. He was in what looked like pyretic delirium. The Doctor held on, afraid to expend too much strength and hurt the fellow. The hand tore free before the Doctor could do anything more effective, aiming for another swing.

Moving behind the man, Jenny grabbed both his wrists and pulled his arms up and across, immobilizing them against his sternum. She threw her head back.

"Tory! Darran! Tom's spiking!"

Feet pounded across the floor.

"Oh shix!" someone yelped. Several men grabbed hold of the thrashing figure, letting Jenny and the Doctor step back. The man they held cried out.

"Get off me! Don't touch me!"

"Corporal Tershan! Tom! Calm down!"

If anything, the man bucked more fervently. If this kept up, someone was going to get hurt.

"Hold him still!" Jenny ordered. Moving quickly, she stepped in close, one hand on his shoulder, the other pressing just behind the man's ear. His eyes closed, body slumping limply into the arms that held it.

For a moment, the four men holding Tom stood, catching their breath. Jenny broke the silence.

"We've got to get him back to bed. The unconsciousness won't last much longer." She turned towards the curtained corner of the building. "He'll need sedation."

"Kote had better have it ready." Another man growled. "Why the hell did he let Tom get up?"

"He's still out in the hydro-shed." Jenny said. "Someone's hurt over there."  
"Shix. Somebody call him. Tom's burning up."

As one man pulled a com-link from his pocket and two others carried the unconscious body, The Doctor matched their steps. He studied the man's face, his mind ticking over symptoms and causes. The man was smoldering hot. And the blood that flecked his lips seemed to come from his mouth, or perhaps his throat. It must have been coughed onto his hands. Possibly came from the lungs. Something like tuberculosis? Would that also account for fever and delirium?

The Doctor pushed aside the curtains, revealing ten cots, nine of them occupied. The smell of antiseptic, sweat and something he couldn't quite place assaulted him. The men carrying Tom laid him back on the cot he'd vacated.

"Is Tom all right?" a small woman asked, sitting up in bed, "Is he all right?"

"He's fine, Tilly." The wiry man on the right said, "Lay down."

"I need to know!"

"He's fine, let it alone."

The Doctor glanced around, his eyes falling on a small table covered in medications.

"What sort of sedative are you using in here? And what anti-pyretic?"

"Don't know." One of the men said.

"Where are your medical records, then?"

The group looked around bemusedly. Fat lot of help they were going to be.

"You'll have to talk to Kote." Someone ventured. "He's the aid for this combine."

"Right, I'll do that when he gets here. Got a few questions for him. A lot of questions, actually. Now where-ah- " He stepped over, lifting a vial from the small table and sniffing it. Good old melanin-based sedatives. "This should do the trick."

"Better wait for Kote before you do that." The larger man said. The Doctor barely glanced at him, checking the sedative dosage.

"I'm a doctor, I know what I'm doing, thanks." There was something off about this whole situation. Distinctly off. He needed to get the rest of the story. He injected the dose into the sleeping man.

The curtain was brushed aside as a young man jogged through, pulling a small filtering mask from his face. He strode over to the group bunched around the foot of the cot, Jenny on his heels.

"What's happened? Is Tom stable?"

The Doctor straightened.

"Medic Kote, I'm assuming, hello! I'm the Doctor, and your patient had a rather bad pyretic seizure, delirium and all. I've got ten units of melanin-base sedative in him, and while I'm here I'd love to lend a hand, by the way, since I gather you were in need of someone medical. So, tell me about this fever he's got. All the details. Anything wrong?"

The young medic stared at him, wide-eyed.

He turned his head.  
"Who's he?"

"I was telling you." Jenny said, "He's the Doctor. My father."

The man turned back, his entire posture changing. Relief spread across his face like a sunrise.

"A doctor? You're a doctor?"  
"I think I said that." The Doctor answered drily.

The man grinned, white teeth glowing in the ebony of his face.

"And you're Jenny's dad; you from Earth? Are you here with a rescue party?"

The entire group turned to stare at him. Patients sat up in their beds, something like hunger in their eyes. The Doctor shoved his hands deep into his pockets. Well, that explained a lot; the tension, the slip-shod building style, perhaps the guns as well.

"Sorry." He said, looking around the circle of faces, "I'm just passing through. Tracking down-"He glanced at Jenny, whose pale face seemed to glow in the dim light-"my daughter."

His daughter. Wasn't that hard to say.

He pulled himself back to the moment. "But I can do a bit around here, and once this storm is over I can drop a line to Earth for you lot. Now, back to the point. You've got some very sick people in here."

Kote, who had seemed to deflate for a moment, straightened the front of his khaki jacket.

"Yes. Thanks. Everybody, thanks for the help, we're all right now. Go back to your duties."

Slowly, the crowd broke up, men drifting away. When the curtains swung behind the last departing back, Kote turned to the Doctor.

"What's your specialty?"

The Doctor shrugged. "Oh, just about anything. I've got a lot of experience with diseases in general." At least that was mostly true.

Kote smiled tightly. "Good, b'cause I'm in a bit over my head. I was going to move everyone down to Combine Six, like they did with the other cases, but the MOF's showed up before I could do it. I've never seen fevers that didn't respond to Traqiusun before."

"Other cases?" the Doctor asked. "How communicable is it?"

Kote shrugged. "Not completely sure, but it's not airborne, and it doesn't seem to spread by contact. When Tilly got sick she was drinking out of the same canteen as her husband, and he's fine."

The Doctor relaxed a bit. "That's a relief. At least we won't be dealing with a plague. What have you done for treatment?"

"Kote," Jenny said, "I'm going to change the cloths. They've gotten warm."

Kote nodded, and Jenny moved to a stack of towels laid out on another small table. He turned back to the Doctor.

"I've been using sedatives, mucilaginous agents for the coughs, and the anti-pyretics for the temps. Pyratol and sallyic acid, mostly. Cloths on their heads when they spike, and cool water baths."

"Haven't you got any Washiroin or Reesemax?"

The man shook his head, smiling ruefully.

"Haven't had anything that fancy in a year. Ran out of most of it treating folks after the crash, at least in the small supply we have up here. Combine Six might have some."

The Doctor glanced at the next bed, where a man lay, apparently asleep. He gave a quick look to the bio-reader over the bed. Temperature of thirty nine degrees Celsius. Not good.

His eyes roved over the man, checking for anything obvious. Bite-marks, stings, small lumps that might denote a sub-dermal parasite…

"Anything you recommend, Doctor Good?" Kote asked. The Doctor spoke over his shoulder, slipping on his glasses as he moved to the bed. "Not Doctor Good. Just the Doctor, thanks. An examination, mostly. I want to get a good look, make sure I'm not missing anything. Other than that, no, not yet. You've covered all the basic points for fever, lessee… cold cloths, sallyic acid. Call it aspirin where I've been lately, hate that stuff, but it's good on you lot…" He glanced around. "You've done pretty well for a medic. But how is it that they're letting an undergraduate work on patients?"

A sharp pang of dismay ran through his mind, making him turn. _Jenny. What upset her about that?_

"Sorry." Kote said coolly, reading another patient's data, "Our doctors are spread rather thin. We only have three, since Dad died. And they're busy. So I'm all you get."

The Doctor winced inwardly. Trust this body to find the wrong thing to say.

"Sorry." He turned to look Kote in the eye.

"I could use a hand with examination. Let's look these lads over, and while we're at it, you can tell me a bit about how you all ended up here."

"Combine One can-"

"Debrief me, I know. But I want to hear the _story,_ not the debriefing. We'll start with Tom here. Just talk to keep us company. Humor me."

As they checked vitals, Kote began to talk. He spoke of the colony ship, a cut-rate cargo vessel. "Lived up to the title, too." He said, giving a rueful half-smile. "Lost hull integrity a good three months out from our planet allotment. Damn thing." He moved to the next bed, checking the bio-screen as he spoke, explaining that they'd picked the nearest livable planet as the ship destabilized, moving as fast as they dared to.

The landing had been bad. Very bad. Crash was almost an understatement. Kote spoke about it calmly, but his sentences were short and sharp. And no wonder. They'd lost a fifth of their crew in the crash, tearing the ship mostly apart in the process.

"We're lucky we had Captain Arda doing the landing, or we would have been dead. When you said who you were, I thought one of the distress signals we sent might have got through. Should have known better, really. The whole ship was malfunctioning by that time. What's that?"

The Doctor put his stethoscope on.

"Stethoscope. I know these heart and fibrillation monitors work, but some things I like to do the ol' fashioned way." He pressed the knob against the man's chest, feeling the heat that radiated off his skin. "Lungs sound pretty iffy."

"Yeah. Everyone's got the Sands, on top of it. Like enough wasn't broken around here." He stopped the Doctor's hand as he reached for a needle.

"What're you doing?"

"Blood sampling."

"Forget it. We don't have a hemo-reader in here. The last one broke, and we couldn't fix it decently."

"Have you got a check-screen, then? A microscope, even?"

"Sorry," Kote said bitterly, "Everything we've got is crap."

"I wouldn't say that." The Doctor said softly, "You've managed safe beds, protection from the elements and all, growing your own food. Your fields look fairly good. Have to hand it to you lot. Stranded, ship half gone, and you still manage to make all this. Hold this a moment."

Kote held the sheet up. Still nothing to see externally. His examination was rather limited, without proper tools, but between the sonic screwdriver and the bio-readers, he could give a basic analysis. Aside from the usual symptoms of a microbe-induced fever, there wasn't too much to see. The Doctor listened to the boy's voice as he checked the woman in the next bed.

"I guess so. And it's gotten better. At first we had a storm a week. Lost a few people to the Sands until we got our protection straight. It's better this year. We actually brought in more than half the crop last harvest. And it rained."

"Yes, Jenny said something about that." He turned, glancing over the remaining patients. Three of them were sitting up, a man playing cards, a woman sewing. Kote spoke behind him.

"Temperatures are going down in the back half of the ward. I've kept everybody in here because they're still a little pale and shaky, but they're off bio-readers."

"Well, I'll give them a check over any way." The Doctor said. "How long have they been sick?"

"Two weeks. Jem's fever broke yesterday. Bit of a relief for me. But their temperatures never got as high as Tom's. Mostly I'm worried about him and Carlile."

Jenny was standing over the next bed, talking to the man playing cards. The Doctor watched them absently as he walked back to the medication table, checked over the materials available to him. He might be able to mix something more effective, given a bit of time. If these other patients were any indication, the main problem would be keeping temperatures down, and letting their bodies fight the disease. He could take care of that fairly easy.

The man flipped cards in a manner that was almost mesmerizing. He answered Jenny with quick monosyllables. Not much of a talker, the Doctor thought absently, lifting two vials to check their compatibility.

There was the sound of fluttering cards, and a loud, comprehensive string of curses. The Doctor glanced up. The man had dropped his cards, and he was getting shakily out of his bed, trying to pick them up, his movements quick and jerky. His voice wavered around the room. The Doctor frowned.

_His voice just cracked. Sounds like he's going to start crying. All that over a few dropped cards? Unusual._

He strode over to the bed, where Jenny was helping the man.

"It's okay Fritz." She said, handing him a few she'd pulled from under the bed. He snatched the cards from her, fingers shaking.

_Shaking?_

"No it's not! I've lost count! Damn it, I've lost count again!" The man glanced at the Doctor, his eyes wide.

"What?!"

The Doctor's eyebrows rose. _All right, distinctly unusual._

"I think I'd better give you a check up."

The Doctor pulled out his stethoscope, moving beside the bed. The man drew back.

"Fritz, is it?"

"Yeah."

"Just relax, Fritz. I just want to make sure you're getting better."

The man stared at him with wide, belligerent black eyes. The Doctor gave him a reassuring smile-then stared, caught for a moment. _Not black eyes. Blue eyes. Blue eyes with widely dilated pupils. That can't be good._

The man's heartbeat sounded in his ears. Fast. Too fast. His pulse was rapid under the Doctor's fingers, and his skin was barely warm to the touch. Humans should be a bit warmer than that, shouldn't they?

"Jenny, grab me a bio-reader, will you?"

"What's wrong?" the man asked.

"Nothing, just checking."

He replaced the bio-reader over the man's bed. It registered the identity and vitals of the man below. With a glance to confirm his ideas, the Doctor moved to the next wakeful patient. The woman shrank away from him, despite the smile on her face. Her pupils, too, were dilated.

He worked quickly over the beds of the other patients without fevers, checking heart rates, blood pressures, muscle responses. Nearly all of them had something more than simple pulmonary problems. Pallor and a definite chill to the skin.

"Something's wrong with them." Jenny's voice was soft, almost a murmur. "What is it?"

He glanced back at her. "How do you know something's wrong?"

"Because you're…oh, sorry. What's going on?"

"Don't know yet. I'm finding out." His fingers moved nimbly, setting up another bio-reader. He moved to the next bed, smiling at the thin woman sitting in it.

"Hello, just want a listen to the old ticker. You're Tilly, right?" Tilly Ohsklan, the bio-reader said.

The woman raised her head. Her eyes were too wide, too bright. Her hands twitched frantically over her sewing.

"Yes." She shrank away from his hands.

"Who are you? I don't know you."

"I'm someone who's here to help." He said softly. She stared at him with frightened eyes. He dropped to his haunches beside the bed, trying to give a less threatening appearance. The smell he'd noticed earlier was stronger so close to her; sweat, but something unpleasant and familiar under it.

"Tilly," he said, "How long have you been sick?"

She shook her head. "Two weeks, maybe?"

"And do you feel tired?" He asked, reaching slowly for his stethoscope. She gave a little laugh.  
"Actually, I'm going crazy. I'm so tired of sitting here. I want to-move. Get up and get something done."

_Move. Something…_ Her heart beat was nearly time and a half to a normal human's. He gave her a smile as he stood.

"Well, soon you should be able to. Just relax for now, though."

He caught Jenny and Kote's eyes, and nodded towards the curtain. They followed him out.

"What do you think?" Kote asked. The boy looked at him with hopeful eyes. He couldn't be much over twenty. Who had let a kid like him work as a fully qualified doctor?

"I think you've got a lot to learn about medicine. How long since the first patient's fever broke?"

Kote frowned, confused.

"Three days. But they're getting-"

"Sorry," the Doctor interrupted, "but they're not getting better. You took off the readers a bit too early. Didn't you see their eyes? Notice a few emotional overreactions?"

Kote shrugged.

"I've been treating skirmish casualties when I wasn't in here."

"Who did you say was the first to get sick?"

"Tilly was."

"And who's the newest case?"

"Tom."

The Doctor nodded to himself. "Mm. I thought so. That fever's a symptom, not the main disease. The people who you were going to release, they're passing into another phase of whatever it is." He ran fingers through his dark hair, standing it further on end. "The oldest cases have the fastest heart rates. If I'm right-and I hope I'm not, for once-if I'm right then something is increasing the heart rates the longer it's in the body. And I'm guessing the heart rates are going to keep rising. A heart can't keep that kind of pace. They'll go into coronary arrest if it goes on too long. We need to find out what's causing it. Fast. And we need some proper tools." He glanced at Kote. "We need to get everyone down to this Combine Six. We can't treat them up here. You've got to get whatever transports you can over here, and get these people moved. Can you do that?"

Kote nodded slowly, hesitant.

"I can make a call. If it's an emergency."

The Doctor nodded, his eyes on the young man's.

"Trust me. It is."

……………………………………………………………………………

"Transports will be ready in five minutes, sir."

The dark skinned man on the screen nodded towards the right. He turned, light glinting off the silver of his captain's badge. The set of his face could only be described as grim. Seeing Captain Arda look like that made Jenny wish she could stand a bit straighter.

"The carriers should reach Combine Four in ten minutes, Kote. A number of cases are in Combine Six already, from what I've been told. Brief Doctor Orn when you get down there."

The Captain's eyes roved over to the Doctor. "Sergant Dara informed us that you are a doctor. Is that correct?"

Her father nodded. "Yep. The definite article, you might say."

Captain Arda gave a small smile.

"Good. We can use another set of hands. When this storm is over I'll be glad to meet you in person."

The Doctor nodded. "Thanks."

Turning from the screen-actually turning his back on an officer- the Doctor spoke to Jenny and Kote.

"I'll be getting everyone ready to move. Come back and help when you're done."

With a nod to the vid-screen, he strode away. Jenny cringed inwardly. The Words ran through her mind. _**A soldier never shows disrespect to their superior officer.**_

The Captain was scowling at what he could see of the Doctor's back through his vid-link.

"Jenny Good?"

"Yes sir?"

"I was told that man is your father?"

"Yes sir."

The captain stared at her, then shook his head slightly.

"Interesting family you must have. Carry your gun on the road. The MOF's have been more active lately."

"Yes, sir." She knew that well. She'd fought in the last eight skirmishes.

Captain Arda inclined his head. "Better go give him a hand."

Jenny saluted as the screen flicked off. She barely waited for the picture to disappear before she was jogging to the back of the room.

Her father was bent over one of the sleeping patients, wrapping a blanket around him.

"Give me a hand." He said, his eyes never leaving his work. She moved to comply, stepping to the other side of the cot.

"What's that look for?" He asked, glancing at her.

"That was Captain Arda. You shouldn't disrespect him."

The Doctor rolled his eyes. "There's _always_ a captain or an emperor or a king, Jenny. I don't 'disrespect' them. I just treat them like the people they are. Though I do end up being a bit rude some times. You think I was rude?"

"Yes."

He shrugged. "Sorry, then. By the way, when did you pick up your surname?"

She handed him another blanket, watching him tuck it around the next man. "My what?"

"The last name you're using. Good. When did you take it?"

"Don't know, exactly." She replied, pulling out one of the med-station's stretchers, "Started as a joke, when I landed here, 'cause I was good at everything. Then it sort of stuck. After a while, everyone just assumed I'd always had it."

Her father moved to the next bed. "That's normal enough. Humans like the details to fit together. Unconsciously, they made you match their pattern. Happens all the time. Makes fitting in a bit easier, I will say." He took another blanket, moving to the last of the fever patients.

"Good idea to have a surname to give, anyway. Favor Smith m'self. Nice common name." He gave her a quick smile, glancing towards the conscious patients.

"When the transport comes, we'd probably better help everyone who's awake on to stretchers as well. I'm guessing they'll be fairly shaky, with their cardiovascular systems going haywire. We can help these folks, get them a bit of medication, and be on our way."

Jenny looked up. "We can't go out in the storm, Father. Navigation's impossible, and like I said earlier, the storm makes foot travel impractical."

"Gonna let a little bit of wind bother you?" He asked, cocking an eyebrow.

She must not have given the information properly. It was nothing like a little bit of wind out there. The storm was a definite danger.

"It's-"

The young man who pushed open the curtain cut her sentence short.

"Transports are here, Good. Kote's waiting for you."

"Thanks, Roarn." She said, giving him a quick smile. He grinned to the roots of his red hair-he was always grinning, it seemed-and hurried out.

Her father stepped beside Tom's bed. "Allons-y, then. Get the other side of the stretcher, will you?"

They passed Kote and a few other men preparing more stretchers as they headed for the door. As they walked, Jenny grabbed three sets of filter masks and goggles from the wall-rack. She handed a set to her father across the stretcher, and strapped a mask over Tom's face.

"Put those on."

Slipping on her own protective gear, she pushed a shoulder against one of the heavy side-doors. It opened slowly, letting in a blast of hot air and sand. She braced herself against it, and stepped out.

……………………………………………………………

The little bit of wind that the Doctor had expected nearly knocked him sideways. Correction; a _large _bit of wind. He lowered his head against the scouring gale, glad that he'd humored Jenny and put on the goggles before they'd stepped out.

The sky that had been so wide had closed around the combines in a hot, close darkness, the air filled with churning eddies of sand. He could barely see a half a meter through the boiling torrent. Jenny touched his shoulder, pointing towards the right. He squinted, and made out several lights in the gloom.

_Must be the transports._

The sand seared across his cheeks as they moved, howled in his ears with deafening intensity. Every step was a fight against the blinding storm. They were almost touching the vehicle before it could be seen. Jenny opened the back door of the thing, which looked like a cross between a van and a Jeep to the Doctor, and together they slid Tom into it. Jenny slammed the doors. They turned, passing two more pairs of stretcher-bearers on their way back inside.

After three more trips through the dark, every patient was loaded into one of the carriers. They slammed the door of the combine behind them as they came in, closing out the wind. Pulling off his mask, the Doctor breathed deeply.

"Well, that's a storm and no mistake!"

_I tried to tell him that._

He smiled to himself at Jenny's thought, watching her stride to Kote.

"Ready to move?" she asked him.

"Yeah." Kote tapped another man on the shoulder as he passed.

"Jevro, I almost forgot, they told me in the hydro-shed that you're to get your lads together and keep an eye on the pumps. Their filters are going to need cleaning every half hour."

"Right, Kote."

Kote nodded to the man, then joined Jenny and the Doctor. Masks back on, they hurried through the heavy door. They squeezed themselves into the close confines of one of the carriers, the Doctor watching as the driver punched a program into the dash. The carrier roared to life, and in a moment Combine Four was lost to sight, veiled in blowing sand. The small vehicle moved into a world of wind, darkness, and dust.


	4. Chapter 4

4

"Oi, Haro, Ed!"

Walking around two sprayers coating barley seeds in bright ferti-grow, Jevro strode to a small group of men who'd found a moment and a bit of mess-table for themselves. A younger man, who'd been looking at the dark contents of his mug with distaste, brushed a bit of blonde hair out of his eyes.  
"Hey Jevro. want a pint? The brew turned out a bit sharpish this time."

"Nah." Jevro said, "No time. Kote says we're to head over to the hydro-form shed. Sand's getting into the filters."

The stocky man beside Haro pulled a face.

"Damn things. They're always breaking down."

"Yeah, and you're always whining, Yosh. We're going to be out there a bit, so you can bring the beer."

With sighs, the men rose, snapping lids on their mugs. Haro smirked as he got up.  
"You see Roarn grinning at Jenny? Again?"

On the left, Dave gave a laugh.

"One of these days, he's going to walk into a table while he's staring at her."

"Yeah." Haro agreed, "An' she'll never give 'im a tumble. Don' think she gets it. Y'know Rosy wants 'im too. He ought to pay a bit more attention."

"Rosemerita?" Dave guffawed as they walked.  
"No way. She's impossible. You have to be a Chief Officer just to say hello to her."

He grabbed a filter mask, tossing it back to Haro, then threw another to Jevro. The men bickered and laughed as they prepared themselves to enter the storm.

"Everybody be careful." Jevro warned, "We've got enough of our lads sick as it is."

Dave opened the door, and the eight of them filed out. Each of them grabbed a hold of the guideline strung between the combine and the hydro-shed, hurrying through the wind.

Head down, Jevro opened the shed door, and they piled inside. Haro ripped off the mask, taking a pull on his beer. He grimaced.

"Who did the brewing this time? Tastes like dishwater."

"Then why are you still drinking it?" Dave teased. Haro shot him a condescending glance.

"Because it's _beer_, you twit."

The hum of the machinery enveloped them as they entered. Ed moved to the first filter over the air-intake valves, checking it.

"About twenty minutes and this will need cleaning." He called. Jevro nodded.

"Right, twenty minutes and we'll clean 'em all, 'til then let's give things a check, just make sure nothing's fallen to bits today."

The other men nodded, moving down the rows of machinery that kept them alive. Something was always breaking on the hydro-pumps. And no wonder. You could see how slapped together they were, despite the engineering team's best efforts. The things were built from bits and pieces of the _Sassildia,_ and the ship's parts weren't designed to do the things they did now. It was a wonder they got water out of the whole system at all.

The men laughed and bantered as they worked. Jevro smiled internally as he walked to the eastern corner of the shed, listening to them. His engineering lads were a good crew.

The rush of water in the pipes, pumping out to saturate fields and prevent the topsoil blowing away, filled the air. He walked down the row, stepping around the output nozzles. Somewhere he could hear Brixle whining over the thrum of the pumps. That kid, the youngest of his crew, always had something to moan over, or else he was telling older men how to do their jobs. Further down the row, a member of the maintenance staff was checking the nozzles.

"How's it look?" Jevro called to him. The man scowled.

"You and your crew have your work cut out for you. Internal couplings are fine, but the external valve's caught again. Probably full of sand, like last time."

Damn. And that was one of the valves for the newest field. That one needed water the most, to hold the tilled soil in place.

"Right. We'll get on it."

Pulling out his com, Jevro called Rich, his most experienced man.

"Rich, we need two guys to go out and clean the valve on number eight. It's stuck tight. Check number nine too."

"Damn. Okay, I'll get out there. Who do you want with me?"  
Another whining comment cut the air. Jevro's lips cracked in a grin.

"Take Brixle, why don't you? Lad should get some real _experience_, like he always wants."

"You know," Rich's voice said, "I think I'll just have to. He can show me all that ability he's always going on about. I've got a head-set, setting is on seven. See you in a bit."

Jevro smirked. Cleaning external water nozzles would take some of the swagger out of Brixle's step.

He switched his com to channel seven. They'd made it practice that one man on the inside always listened to storm-forays, in case a problem came up. Soon he could hear Brixle's voice whining through the com.

"How much farther _is_ it?"

"Count the nozzles, Brix. We're on the sixth."

"They ought to be marked better."

"Oh, just for you, I suppose?"

Jevro half-listened to Rich explaining how they would lift and free the heavy valve couplings. It was a messy job, and definitely two-man work once the valves had been unscrewed. They were heavy things, welded out of what had once been the plates of the hull.

Brixle's voice whined again. "So what am I supposed to do while you're unscrewing the bolts?"

Rich's breath blew out in what sounded like a sigh. "Just walk down to the first marker and back. Check the hose for leaks."

Inside, the engineering crew had started cleaning the filters. Jevro moved to join them. But before he'd gotten half way across the room, his com crackled to life.

"Jevro! I can't find Brixle! The bloody kid's off!"

Panic sliced through his chest.

"I'm coming!" he said into the com. Donning a speaker-set, mask and goggles, Jevro ran for the door. That bloody kid. Didn't he know not to run off during a storm? How little common sense did he have?

Stepping outside, he kept his hand tight against the wall of the combine, moving around the enormous outer section of the nozzles that could deliver four hundred gallons of water a minute. He counted the nozzles as he went; four-five-nearly there-he could see the dim outline of Rich-then he was beside him. Rich turned.

"I called Brixle's com six or seven times. No answer."

"You think that he got to sulking and turned it off?"

"Unless he got out of range, then it'd turn off automatically. Better check."

"You sent him down hose eight, right?"

"Yeah." The two men followed the winding hose, careful to avoid stepping on the small seedlings holding their own against the wind. No sign of Brixle. If he strayed, even in the field, he could get completely disoriented in this mess. He could get hurt, or worse.

They had to be near the first marker by now. Jevro scanned the whirling dust for the silhouette of it; a large rock left in the field because it made a perfect point of reference. Hadn't they come far enough for it? Well, maybe not. It was hard to judge distance in the dark.

But no. He was sure it ought to be right there. Another step. He glanced down-and froze. The stone was gone. Instead, a hole gaped in the field. It reminded him of the small burrows built by the prairie rodents. But it was the size of two men in diameter. If he hadn't looked down, he would have walked right into it.

Rich joined him on the edge, looking into the pit. Their coms crackled.

"H-hello? Rich? Rich, I fell down here. My mask's gone-can't find it-'s all dark. Rich?"

"I'm here, Brix." Rich said softly.

The boy's voice came back strained.

"Rich? Rich?! Get me out of here!!"

…………………………………………………………………

The ride was not a pleasant one. The protective masks were necessary even inside the carrier, making conversation impossible. A few minutes of staring into the dark, and the Doctor sat back, and thought. Before he relaxed, he strengthened mental shields; Jenny might look like a late adolescent, but she had the mental control of a child. She really had no understanding of the boundaries between her mind and the minds of others. It was purely instinctive, and completely innocent, of course. But he rather valued his privacy, and didn't enjoy the sense of anyone wandering through his mind without invitation. If she traveled with him, he'd have to give her a few lessons about that.

_Lessons. Listen to me. Going on like I'm planning a curriculum. _

He shrugged the thought off. The carrier hit another bump in the road.

This disease. With any luck it would be something simple; some virus or infection that would be easy to treat. If only he'd landed the TARDIS a bit nearer, he'd be able to isolate the problem and put together a cure in nothing flat. But no. Not that lucky. Never was, it seemed. One of these days he was going to take some time and figure out how to remote-control his ship. It would make life quite a lot easier.

Back to the problem at hand- what did he know? Early patients came down with fever and coughing as sand irritation ruptured small blood vessels in the trachea and the lungs. The fever spiked around forty-two degrees. Around two weeks, patients turned cold and highly emotional, vasoconstriction came in, blood pressures skyrocketed.

Now what would do that? There was no sign of a parasite, nor any sort of poisoning that he'd been able to detect.

_That smell..._

Well, really it could have been a lot of things.

They hit another rock. Shocks hadn't been a high priority in this vehicle, he decided.

It was warm in the little cab. He could just hear someone moaning through the sound of the motor and the storm. He had to get this figured out. _Think!_

If the problem wasn't airborne, and it wasn't contact-dependant, it ought to have a difficult time spreading. Yet apparently the disease was managing to get around. How was that happening? Another question to add to the list.

On his left Kote was sweating, the fine grit that sifted inside layering a patina on his skin. The Doctor's skin itched from the mask, and stung where the blowing sand had ripped across it. He'd never get all the sand out of his hair. He peered ahead. Darkness. Amazing the colonists had survived this mess.

On his right, Jenny looked over at him, and put her hands together in a Castilla Sector version of a thumb's up. She smiled through her mask, before looking back into the storm, the structure of her face half-illumined by the carrier's cab light. Her white-gold hair shone.

Sheara's hair had been that color. But her eyes had been green.

Sheara. She'd been his elder daughter. Delicate and elegant, and when she looked at you her intelligence shone out…He shook himself mentally, shutting the memory away. No need for that. Don't think about the past. Not now. Not if you're going to do anything about the present.

The carrier ground to a halt. The Doctor squinted, just making out the outline of a building that loomed out of the dust. Jenny gave him another 'it's good' gesture, and opened her door.

The Doctor and Kote took the sides of a stretcher, hurrying to the door. Moving ahead of them, Jenny gave a quick series of knocks. The door opened, the rush of vacuum release just audible over the wind, allowing them inside.

This combine had been well and truly fitted as a hospital. The entry way was surrounded in clear plastic, and even had a proper little purification fan that ruffled their clothes as it blew away dirt, dust and infectants. A fine cleansing mist fell through the ceiling grate. This was more like it. They pulled off their protective masks, hanging them on a rack by the wall, and stepped out of the entry.

The smell hit him like a wall, nearly making him reel.  
"Woah." He knew that smell now. It was the scent of battlefields and human fear.

"Adrenalin." He murmured, his eyes widening. "It's adrenalin."

"What?" Kote asked. The Doctor turned to him.

"It's adrenalin, I just realized! These people's bodies are over-producing adrenalin, this disease must be triggering their hormone production, it's near poisoning them. Oh, it all fits! Vasoconstriction, eyes dilating, heart rates rising, it all fits! Oh, why wasn't I paying attention? Smelled it in Combine Four, should have recognized it, I've been around it often enough." His eyes flickered around the room, mind racing. "All right, lots to do, we need to get that lot in here, and then you've got to show me where your medications are kept, we can control the physical reactions until we can figure out where it's coming from at least. Let's get on, shall we? Where do we put everybody? New patients, where do they go? And where do they keep the diagnostic tools? Well?"

Kote stared at him. The boy seemed to do that a lot.

"We better talk to Orn first."

"Doctor Orn? The one you're supposed to brief?"

"Doctor Maggie Orn. "Jenny said, adjusting the strap of her gun over her shoulder. "Chief medical officer."

_Does she have to wear a gun?_

Kote nodded. "She runs the combine. Should be around here. Somebody will know where she is."

"Well, get her then, and hurry," the Doctor said, "'cause this fellow isn't half heavy."

Kote nodded. Trading places with Jenny, he hurried into the room. While he waited, Doctor glanced around. They'd said they had a few cases. But from what he could see, the long room was nearly filled with beds. There had to be a good seventy people in here. The medics moved quickly through the hall, looking a bit overwhelmed.

"It's getting worse." Jenny said softly.

"How d'you know that?" he asked, glancing at her. Her face was remote, eyes looking down the row of cots.

"Nearly every bed in here is full now."

The scent of adrenalin was heavy in the air, tightening his throat. Someone in the back of the combine started to yell. Someone else was crying. There would be a lot of that, as people reacted to the chemical telling their bodies they were in danger. It reminded him of battle fields, of war hospitals and asylums. "What's going on here?"

The Doctor turned his head, startled out of his thoughts. A small, tough-looking woman was standing in front of him. She looked him up and down.

"You the doctor who's arrived?" She asked sharply. The Doctor stared at her, a little taken aback.

"Ah-yes, I'm the Doctor. Heard you had a bit of a problem down here. Rather a bit more of a problem than I thought, too."

The woman jerked her head in a nod. "Eighty cases now. We had more, but two died today."

Two dead. He thought it would happen. No human body could keep up under that kind of stress for long.

"I'm sorry."

The woman stared at him, much as a bird of prey sizes up a mouse. He put on a small I'm-no-trouble smile. Her eyes narrowed.

"Got your credentials?"

He rifled through his pockets, pulled out his psychic paper, and flipped the wallet open. The woman studied it-then nodded.

"So you're an expert in infectious diseases. Good luck on us, 'cause that's what we need. You've got more patients to bring in?"

He nodded. "About ten. Where can we put them?"

Maggie Orn turned on her heel.

"I'll show you. We can talk as we go. What have you been briefed on?"

The Doctor moved to keep pace with Orn as he answered her, Jenny matching his steps." I know what this disease is doing, if that's what you're asking. And here's the thing; these people are reacting to an adrenalin overdose."

"Adrenalin?" Maggie Orn said, incredulous.

"Yes, adrenalin." The Doctor replied. "Look around. Think the symptoms over. It's all the effects of adrenalin, magnified a hundred fold."

"None of our tests showed adrenalin."

"Were you looking for it?" The Doctor asked.

Maggie Orn glanced at him. "No, not exactly."

"Then you wouldn't find it. You've noticed the heart rates, I assume?"

"The fact that they're through the roof?"

"Yep. That's the main problem, and am I right in saying it's what killed your two earlier?"

"Yes."

"Right. We need to treat the adrenalin overload at the mo, get something in to counteract it, just until we can figure out what's triggering it. We're going to need alpha-beta adrenergic blockers. Lots of them. Enough for every patient. Nitric based would be nice, but nitric-supported is all right, if you can just…"

The little woman cut him off. "We're out."

The Doctor blinked.

"Out? How can you be out?"

Her hawk-eyes trained on him. "We haven't been able to produce that chemical. We can only get certain compounds out of the synthesizers after the damage they sustained. And we ran out of the supply we brought years ago." She stopped in front of an empty cot.

"You can put him here. Your other cases can go down this row. Jenny?"

"Yes'm?"

"I'll help the doctor. Go direct your other lads down here."

"Yes'm."

She stepped aside as the other woman took her side of the stretcher, then threw a small salute and strode away. The Doctor couldn't help but roll his eyes.

"Something wrong?" Maggie Orn barked.

"She _salutes. _The girl actually _salutes._"

"You talking about Jenny Good? She's one of our best men."

"I can imagine." The Doctor wasn't sure whether he was amused or annoyed. He had never gone in for such pointless gestures of respect. They were idiotic. Yet his daughter used them. And wore a gun. In fact, there were all together too many guns around here.

Together with the medical doctor, he moved the sick man from his stretcher on to the bed. The man groaned in his drugged sleep. When they had him wrapped up, the Doctor turned to the woman.

"So, Maggie-can I call you Maggie? I'd like to see these synthesis units. A little tinkering, and I can probably get them producing what we need in no time."

Maggie shook her head, her grey braid swinging. "Sorry, but we've had our engineers and our best men fight with the damn things. It won't work."

"Oh, I may be able to work on that. Clever with machines, I am. You'd be surprised what you can get a machine to do if you're a bit clever. "

Maggie snorted. "Cleverer than all our men? You won't be able to get what you want from it."

He met her eyes for a long moment, and saw the incredulity there, the cynicism, a thick shell built up with every hope that had failed. The Doctor quirked an eyebrow. "Try me."

The synthesis machines were pretty basic. Pour some source of protein into the machine-ground grain in this case-program in the molecular structure you want, and the apparatus reorganized the molecular building blocks into the pattern that you've given it. That was the theory, anyway. But the machine couldn't extract the proper amino acids to reorganize from the grain. The Doctor lifted off the outer covering. Time to improvise.

…………………………………………………………………..

"Is that the last of them?"

The man nodded, an arm around his charge's shoulders.

"Yep. She wouldn't stay on the stretcher."

"I can walk!" the woman spat. A wave of anger lashed out with her words. Jenny tensed.

_Her emotions are all over the place._

"It's fine." Jenny said, "Just go straight down this row, find the first empty bed."

"Right." The man said. "Come on."

Jenny turned away as the two moved down the corridor, scanning the room for her father. She couldn't see him anywhere in the bustling room. But she could feel him; he stood out like a beacon, brighter than anyone else in the combine. She followed the sense into the dispensary.

Her father had his back to her, the blue light of the little device he carried shining into the innards of a synthesis machine. She'd spent four days helping to work on those. What could have broken in them now?

"Can I do anything?"

The Doctor glanced up at her, his device between his teeth. He made a few 'mmf' noises, before dropping one of the wires he held and taking it out of his mouth.

"Yes, that'd be grand, you can take that gun off and get rid of it, then hold these wires. 'Specially this greeny-silver one, keeps getting away from me."

_**A Soldier never removes a weapon during danger.**_

"I'd rather stay armed."

Her father spoke over his shoulder.

"And I'd rather not have a gun around me. Don't like guns, never have. Take it off."

Jenny glanced down at the strap of her gun, felt the weight of it over her shoulder and across her chest. The Words repeated themselves in her head. _**A Soldier never removes a weapon during danger.**___

_And the MOF's are all around. They've even got equipment to move in the storm. Got to be ready._

"I'm better prepared with it."

"Fine. Then go find something to do." He said. Then he turned, and looked her full in the face.

"'Cause if you want to work with me, you're going to need to take it off."

There was a command in his voice, almost an officer's command. Jenny stared at her father. He didn't understand. Her gun made her prepared and powerful. She needed it. She felt right wearing it.

_**A Soldier never removes a weapon during danger.**_

His dark eyes held an order. But under it was something like a hope. Almost a plea.

For a moment, Jenny stood stock-still. Then, slowly, she lifted off her gun. Stepping outside, she waved over one of the men from Combine Four.

"Terran, can you go hang this up for me?"

Terran shrugged, grabbing the strap.  
"Sure."

She had to force her hand to release the strap. "Be careful with it." She called after him. For a long moment, she watched him walk away. She felt stripped.

Walking back inside, she met her father's eyes. He grinned at her, slipping on a pair of glasses.

"Brilliant. Let's get on, then."

The work he was doing –they were doing- was fascinating. He did things with the machinery she'd never seen before, making connections that shouldn't have worked but, somehow, did. In four days, she hadn't been able to get half the circuits that he had repaired working. She wanted to ask about everything he did. But they were pressed for time. She limited herself to asking about the little tool he was using, which seemed to function in an awful lot of capacities.

"Sonic screwdriver." He said, "Does just about everything, except deadlock seals. Nice little thing to have on hand."

He explained what he was trying to do, or some of it, as they worked.

"We might need to add a few extra chemicals to this mix, if we can't get that burnt isolation tetrameter working. We'll try to throw in a few of the other medications; a little mixing and matching should do the trick. Then, we've got a lot of testing to do. We've got-hold this a minute…yep, like that-got to figure out why the bodies are producing so much adrenalin. Until then we're just treating the symptoms, and we need to get down to the cause. There." He pushed a button. The wires sizzled.

"No no no no!" He dropped to his knees again, pulling another wire. "It's acting up again. I just fixed that!"

"Try reconnecting it there." Jenny suggested. "It worked last time."

"You've worked on these before?"

"I'll say. Practically took apart the one on the left. A bullet came through the wall and punctured it. Took forever repairing."

"All these guns." Her father muttered. "What's all the shooting about anyway?"

Jenny glanced at him, then back at the wire she was trying to connect. "We fight to keep the MOF's from stealing more supplies."

Her father pulled the sonic screwdriver from between his teeth, soldering a capacitor. That thing really was handy. "MOF's. You were talking about them earlier. Now who are they?"

The wires finally connected. "A split of faction of the colonizing party. Call themselves the Men of Freedom. Broke off not long after landing. But instead of building on their own, they raid this colony. We fight to keep them off."

"Mm." her father said, poking the sonic screwdriver deeper into the workings, "Mutiny on the SS Bounty all over again. All right, that should do it." Turning to the medical shelves, he pulled down two bottles.

"Grab me that little pink one, and the orange funny-shaped one to the left of it. Ta."

Taking the vials, he poured a little of each one into the synthesizer's intake chute, watching intently. His eyes riveted themselves on the readouts.

"Almost, come on, come on…" he murmured. The machine gave a loud hum. "Yes!" The Doctor glanced at the readings. "Ah." His face fell, and he set down the vials, typing again.

"Jenny, hold those synthesis specification conduits together. Tight, now, side by side."

"Won't that make them read each other's information and go haywire?"

"Not if I get this right…" He tapped a series of keys, then poked at the specification circuit with his sonic screwdriver. Its buzz rose, then fell again. Concern and frustration roiled out of him as he typed. Then, abruptly, he dropped his hands to his sides. "Nothing doing. This machine's got too much damage to it; no matter what I do it still says it'll take ten hours to synthesize this combination."

He ran a long hand through his hair. "Ten hours. Ten hours and some of these people might be dead. Maybe if I…" he prodded the controls. The screen changed. **Time to Production: Nine Hours**

He prodded them again, but the screen remained the same. The Doctor sighed.

"Well, that's something, I suppose."

He squatted down beside Jenny, who still had her hands on the tubes. The sonic screwdriver whirred in his hand.

"You can let go of those now. They're hold together."

Carefully releasing the tubes, Jenny stood.

"What do we do next?"

"We wait." The Doctor said, almost sighing. His eyes stared off. "All we can do now is wait."

Then he glanced at her. "And we can do a bit for these folks in the mean time. I think I can find something to get their heart rates a little lower at least, until this is ready. Take some samples, maybe figure out the root of the problem. Let's see what we can do. Come on."

Jenny strode after her father, watching him glance up and down the hall.

"We ought to find Maggie again and see what tests she's taken already. Might be able to re-run a few samples again, check for a few things." Jenny listened to his voice. She was trying to pay attention. But something was catching her attention. Something was wrong. Something…

She turned towards the door. There was something going on outside.

"Jenny? Come on."

_Something's happening. What…_ She took a step.

And the lights went out.

Screams rent the air, mingling with the sudden cacophony of gunshots. Hot air exploded into the room, carrying sand and four men in its wake, just discernible in the gloom, their faces hidden behind masks and thick baklavas . Their guns shot noise and fire into the air.

_Move!_

………………………………………………………

The lights went out. Shots. Gunfire.

The Doctor spun on his heel.

"What?"

His eyes adjusted to the sudden darkness. He could see men with guns, ringed around the door.

The Doctor stared. Only one thought made itself into coherent words.

"Oh, how I _hate_ guns."


	5. Chapter 5

5

"Shut up! Everybody! NOW!"

The men spread out as the combine lights flickered fitfully back to life. The room was full of screams. Orso Terme nodded to two of his men, and as one they shot another volley towards the roof.

"I said SHUT UP!" he roared.

Everyone froze. Good.

He pulled off his baklava, brushing black hair from his face. Time to secure the area. He drew a breath, his wide chest expanding.

"Everyone standing, get to the walls! NOW!"

Medics and men all down the combine scurried to comply. Not so high and mighty now.

Orso strode down the central row of beds, his gun swinging itself in a defensive arc. The people in the beds crouched lower, their eyes huge as they watched him pass. His eyes scanned for hidden weapons, threats, anything out of order.

One thing was definitely out of line. A man was still standing over one of the beds, grabbing vials and injecting them into the patient lying there. Orso strode over, his gun ready.

"Hey!"

The mark pumped his hands against the chest of the prone body in the bed, giving no indication he'd heard Orso's shout. He wasn't a medic; that was obvious from his dress. He could be hiding anything under that long brown coat. Orso poked the muzzle of his rifle against the man's back.

"Hey! Get over to the wall!"

"Not just now." The man snapped, "This man's in coronary arrest." He pushed a long needle into the man's chest, then pressed a small silver tube against the man's collarbone. The man gave a shuddering gasp, and his caretaker smiled-then looked back at Orso.

"You almost killed this man. There's a disease in these people, a disease that makes them react to any stimuli. And-"

Orso levelled his gun. "Get _moving_!"

The man met his eyes for a long moment. Then he turned-slowly-and walked to join the medics.

"Don't scare the patients any more than you must."

"Shut up!"  
"Ooh, touchy you are."

He almost shot the idiot right there. But he had his orders. No firing if not completely necessary. He didn't want to account for himself when Lieutenant Pethrin arrived.

Orso satisfied himself with giving the man a good smack across the back of the head with his rifle, before turning away. He missed the unreadable stare turned on his back.

…………………………………………………………………………………….

"Well that was unpleasant." The Doctor murmured to himself, one hand clasped against the back of his head. That was going to take a good minute to heal. He glanced from one armed man to another.

"I suppose these would be the MOF."

The gunmen moved further down the long hall, weapons at the ready. The Doctor watched them as they swung their weapons right…left…right, covering every inch of the combine. Eight men. Six moving down the center, one going down the right side of the combine, one down the left. Eight men he could deal with. He hoped. Perhaps, once they were done blustering around the room, he could get them to talk reasonably and make their demands. Given the situation, they were probably after food. Or medical care. Or both.

_Humans. I swear, always fighting about something._

Something heavy fell near the middle of the hall. The six gunmen in the corridor whirled towards the sound. Patients cried out as the guns moved in their direction.

A thin man leapt from bed.

"I've got to get out of here! Get me out of here!"

The black-haired gunman strode to the foot of the bed, his gun leveled at the man's chest.

"Sit down. Now!"

The man stared at the gun, his body taunt as strung wire. Then his knees gave way, and he crumpled, falling across his cot. The Doctor's hands clenched into fists.

_Only a faint. But if they scare anyone further along…This is getting out of hand._

The broad man who seemed to be in charge turned on his heel. He pointed at two of his men.

"Find out what that sound was."

They nodded, and moved to the far side of the combine. The Doctor's eyes followed them, then scanned the huddled crowd. He found himself searching for a glint of white-blonde hair among them. Jenny had been right behind him. Where had she gotten to?

One of the gunmen came jogging back to his black-haired superior.

"Erb got himself knocked out, sir. Looks like he bumped into the wall, and knocked the shelf above him off its strut."

"Knocked out?" the man growled. "Damn idiot. Wake him up."

"Yessir."

_Knocked out._

The Doctor's brows drew together.

_That's a little too convenient. Now I know where Jenny is. That mad kid. She's only going to make this situation worse by attacking them. If she tries that again and they catch her, this situation really will be out of control. _

The Doctor relaxed, letting his senses roam around the combine. Jenny's mental patterns grabbed his attention. She was over along the far wall, her attention intently fixed. She was planning. Strategizing.

_Jenny._

Jenny tensed. If her body hadn't been battle-ready, she might have jumped and given away her position. Her father was across the combine, lined up with the medics. But she could hear him, as if he was standing next to her. What was going on?

_Relax, Jenny. It's just a bit of telepathy. Proper telepathy, this, sort of a step up from what you've been doing. You didn't think it was only for poking into other people's heads, did you? Anyway, tell me where you are exactly. I've only got a general sense that you're over there. _

Jenny glanced at the crates that surrounded her.

_How do I answer him?_

Her eyes grew wide when her father's voice answered the question. _Just think the words you want me to see. I'll pick them up._

With a glance at the positions of the enemy, Jenny closed her eyes, her smooth brow creasing. The words came together like pieces of a complex circuit.

_I'm behind several storage bins in the north-west quadrant. There's sufficient cover for me to move forward and get to my-_

_Your gun? Oh no you don't. The very last thing we need is for these men to see an armed enemy. By the way, don't try so hard. Just relax, think like you're talking physically. _

Jenny tried, answering him.

_I've successfully incapacitated one man. There's only eight. I can get these next two in a minute. _

_And if you do, their mates will counter, and somebody will most likely get shot. We need to calm the situation down. Not stir it up. We don't need anyone to overreact. _

_But if I immobilize them all, they won't be able to overreact. _

A dull, rippling feeling ran through her head, reminding her of the feeling people gave off when they were frustrated.

_Okay, Soldier, think about this situation. You've got a small rebelling group with probably centralized leadership, and they send a few heavily armed men to take a structure. Do you know that tactic?_

Jenny brightened. _Small-casualty advance strategy. Heavily armed advance units are sent to secure an area, relying on surprise and higher fire power. Each unit is split in half, part of the unit attacking while the rest waits for the outcome. Resistance is assessed, and the rest of the group is called as cavalry or to aid in securing the area. When the area's fully secure, a message is sent to the superiors reporting the success and the ability for any further plans to continue.____ An attack style usually used by small groups that can't afford to lose their leaders. _

_Right. So guess who's waiting right outside? And if they don't get called, they'll either come inside or call their superiors and ask for backup. Either way, consider what'll happen if they come in and find their men out cold on the floor. What do you think they'd do to the people in here?_

_Oh._

She hadn't thought about it from that perspective. She'd thought that neutralizing the threat would end the situation. Instead, she had been about to make it worse.

_Yeah, I thought as much. You've got to think ahead, y'see. Now we need to get some ideas together. Can you get over to where I am? _

_**Positions of defensive concealment must be held. **_

Jenny shook her head.

_I'll lose my cover. It'll remove the element of surprise._

_What we need right now is _thinking_, not _attack positions, _Jenny. Call it-oh, reconnaissance I guess. Come on over here._

Reconnaissance.

_**Reconnaissance is the best weapon of a soldier unable to act.**_

Jenny grimaced, opening her eyes. What her father said made sense. Even the Words concurred. But she still didn't like it. Noting the position of each gunman, she moved carefully along the wall, using every cover and shadow to her advantage. Her pale skin and hair was a handicap to any stealth movement, but she had gotten good at this. She clung to the wall as she worked her way around the combine. Nearly there. She ducked behind a spare mattress as a gunman passed, then slipped into the crowd.

"There you are. Much better." Her father murmured as she stepped up beside him, his eyes on the men moving through the combine.

"That brawny black-haired fellow seems to be in charge for the moment. Unpleasant bloke. Don't like him much."

"Be quiet." Somebody whispered behind them, "They'll hear you!"

"Let them." The Doctor replied calmly, eyes fixed on the men who marched along the rows of beds. "We don't have time for this. Really, really don't have time for this. I'm going to try…"

The shush of the opening door cut off what he had been about to say. Jenny's attention snapped to the door, watching as black-clad men streamed inside. The black-haired rebel stepped up to a slight, wiry man who had just peeled off his protective gear, revealing close-cropped grey hair and a lean face. They spoke for a long moment, then the sinewy man turned to the new entrants, giving directions. Finishing, he walked forward, facing the occupants of the combine. His voice rang out, sharp and commanding.

"All right, everyone! This is a tactical takeover, and we intend it to be as swift and peaceful as possible. We don't want to use force, so please don't give us any reason to."

Someone further down the combine began to laugh hysterically. A man began to yell, and a few others joined in. The black-haired rebel's gun went off again. Screams. Then silence.

The older man turned, saying something short, soft and emphatic to his dark subordinate before addressing the combine again.

"We have some sick men of our own. We'll be bringing them in here, and we're asking you to treat them."

"My cue, I think." The Doctor murmured beside her. He stepped out of the ranks of medics.

"Well y'know, it's not in the code of medicine to pick and choose who gets treated. And if you haven't noticed, everyone in here is sick. How about you let these folks get back to their work, and me to mine. We'll treat your men along with everyone else, and you can get on with your little freedom-fight. Sound good?"

The man stared. He wasn't just wiry, Jenny noted, but truly thin, deep hollows under his cheekbones.

"Who are you? I don't know you."

"You wouldn't. I'm the Doctor. Just arrived today."

"Where's your ship?" the dark-haired man growled.

"A good eighteen hour's walk away." Her father replied.

"You crashed?" the older man asked. The Doctor shrugged.

"I walked. Was going to have a sort of camping trip. Didn't know this planet was inhabited."

The man smiled mirthlessly.

"It wasn't supposed to be. If you're a doctor, you're welcome here."

The Doctor smiled slightly, his hands deep in the pockets of his coat.

"Thanks. Very nice. Always nice to be welcomed. Now, will you let us get on with our work? Or do you want to let your friend there point his gun at me some more?"

The older man glanced, almost annoyed, at his subordinates. He gestured slightly, and the guns were lowered. The man glanced back at the Doctor, then into the crowd.

"Who's running this combine?"

"I am."

Doctor Orn strode forward, facing the men.

"What do you want then, Grant Pethrin?"

"Twenty-one beds for my men, and food for my command."

"Your command, Pethrin?" Maggie took another step forward. "I remember when you had a real command, under Captain Arda. Now you're just a thug, leading a gang."

The black-haired man's gun came up again. Doctor Orn stood, her eyes locked with the rebel leader. The silence felt in the room grew heavy, pensive. Doctor Orn was so unprotected, standing there in the open, staring at the MOF with fire in her eyes. Jenny wanted to run, to get in front of her, get her out of such a vulnerable position. But any action could destabilize this situation.

The older man shot his subordinate a glare, then turned back to Doctor Orn.

"I'm sorry you feel that way, Orn. I remember you as a good officer. In the morning our Captain will be explaining the situation fully, and you'll understand why this is necessary. Right now, I'd like medical attention for my men."

The little woman glared back. Electricity ran in the air. Then she sighed, broke the stare-down. She pointed a hand down the combine.

"There are spare beds down there. You can set them up for your men. If you're we're going to treat them, we might as well start now. Get them in here. I'm going to give my medical staff their commands. That acceptable to you, Pethrin?"

The wiry man nodded.

"Go ahead with your medical duties. But everyone non-medical will sit at the mess-tables."

"Fine." She turned back to her staff, her grey braid swinging.

"With more people to treat, we're going to need to move faster. Help get those cots ready. Try to free up some more bioreaders. And somebody get to synthesizing more sallyic acid. The night shift will be starting soon, I want everybody to sign up if you're going to do some time tonight. Remember we need double staffing. Everybody else, go back to work."

She glared at the frozen crowd.

"Now!"

And the room was bustling again. Medics moved to beds, their captors followed orders. Jenny hurried down the combine, finding somewhere she could be of use. She could almost feel the guns trained on them. In her mind, strategies began to form.

…………………………………………………………………

The thermo-glasses were fogging again. Damn.

The boy moved a gloved hand across the lenses, his eyes slitting. Not that there was a lot to watch. He finally got to come on a raid, on an advance party even, and what was the first thing they told him when they got here? "Go and do surveillance, Bon." Surveillance. He stared at the red thermal signature of Combine Six. There was nothing to _survey_. The most exciting thing he was going to see was the rest of the men arriving with Captain Jackro after they subdued Combine Seven. And that could take ages.

A flicker of heat. Someone moving around outside. But it was just the men from the advance team taking the sick out of the carriers and moving them indoors. Bon smiled into his baklava. If they were taking everybody inside, the attack must have gone all right. The niggling pain in his gut let up just a bit. Yeah, he'd been excited to go on this raid. But he'd been shix-scared that something would go wrong too. This was definitely the biggest thing they'd ever tried. The plan had been made, but he'd been told it would probably never be carried out. There were other avenues, the officers had said. There were other ways to prove Jackro's legitimacy as captain and show what Arda had been doing. And in the meantime, steal what was necessary. That was the plan.

But now the plan had changed. Everything was different now. Things were really going to happen.

Bright heat signatures moved back and forth to the carriers, appearing as specks of color in the thermal filters that let him see through the storm. So many of the guys were sick. That weird fever had taken down a lot of their guys in the last two weeks. But they'd be all right now.

Sitting back in the sand and the dark, the boy let himself daydream just a bit. Life would be so much better when they opened the food reserves that bastard Arda had kept hidden. Jackro had said that those food reserves could feed the whole colony for more than a year. And not just on energy bars, either, but on really good food, Jackro had said. It still made him mad to think the officers under Arda had hoarded it all for themselves. 'In case of emergency' they had told Jackro when he'd asked. The boy frowned to himself. So all of them half starving that first year wasn't enough of an 'emergency'. Rationing down to one meal a day wasn't an 'emergency'. He glared at the combine. Well, he might be hungry, but at least he didn't have to sit still and deal with it. He was doing something about it. He and the others were doing something to fight Arda. Those people in the combines couldn't even try for what was theirs.

The boy shifted, trying to get some circulation back into his leg. How long had he been out here? His stomach ached with emptiness. Maybe he'd be issued a protein bar when his watch was over. He moved a hand across the lenses, trying to keep them clear.  
A flicker of color caught his eye, off to the left. He turned, trying to pinpoint it. Behind his goggles, he squinted. There was a figure walking across his line of sight.

The boy stood. "Register your signal." He ordered into his com.

The figure paused. No answer on the com.

"Register your signal." He repeated. Nothing. The thermo-goggles distorted the figure by its heat signature, making it seem taller than it really was.

The little hairs on the back of Bon's neck prickled.

"Harry, 's that you?"

His com crackled.

"I'm down in the combine, Bon. And keep your radio silence. Pethrin's orders."

He stared, fingers tightening on his gun. The figure was completely still. Just there, a bright shadow in the dust. The boy could feel eyes on him. Then it turned, and slowly walked out of range.

He suddenly felt very alone, crouched in the dark. The stinging wind howled.

……………………………………………………………………………………………….

The Doctor had signed up for four of the seven shifts set in the Colony's fourteen-hour night. Eight hours and twenty-seven minutes before the adrenergic blockers were ready. It had taken exactly thirty minutes and twenty-nine seconds for the situation to go from difficult, to disastrous.

He moved past men setting up cots in what had been an open area of the combine, passed row upon row of beds. He'd been assigned to check beds forty through eighty, so that was where he'd start.

Bed forty-six. Aurania Metel. A very quiet woman who consented to being tested. Sick for eighteen days. Though she was calm and pleasant, her entire body shook, and she had bitten her nails until they'd begun to bleed. He took a vial from the nearest table, and got her to take two pills. At least that might allow her to relax.

Bed fifty-two turned out to be a young man who'd been sick for two weeks. The moment the Doctor had reached for a needle to take blood samples, the man had begun to yell about murder. No blood sample from bed fifty-two, then. He gave the man a few milligrams of anti-anxiety sedative, and moved on.

More men were being brought in, nearly every one on a makeshift stretcher.

Bed sixty-eight. The man was elderly, his hair like lleura-tree fluff. His heart beat like a rabbit's and his skin was flushed. Blood stained his sheets. The Doctor added a hydration solution to the list of the treatments the man should receive, and an extra twenty milligrams of sallyic acid.

_Sallyic acid and melanin. I'm handing out aspirin and sleeping pills while these people are dying._  
The Doctor itched to act. He hated situations like this. Normally could do _something_. Start following some sort of lead, make a guess, make a move. The Doctor wasn't used to being powerless. But for the moment, there were no actions to take. Just waiting. Watching. And tension, building all the time.

Men with guns watched him as he moved. Muzzles swiveled in his direction. The Doctor almost smirked.

_They're so nervous a good shout of 'boo' would set them off. _

By bed seventy-seven, the names and faces blurred together, though their details stored in his mind. They were so much alike. Growing worse all the time. The adrenalin dropped body temperatures, fever turning to cold. It made men cry like children, women lash out like tigers at the slightest provocation. This place would become an asylum if many more cases progressed.

The Doctor did what he could. He prescribed calcium-channel blockers and tried to calm frantic patients. He re-mixed doses of sedative to improve their performance. He held a girl who couldn't stop crying, a girl about Jenny's age. Relatively speaking. He hadn't seen Jenny in the past-what? Half-hour? He fleetingly wondered where she was. He walked and talked with patients, hoping that maybe, just maybe, some of the adrenalin could be exercised out of their bodies. He tried to smile at every medic that passed him with frightened eyes.

_Terrified patients and terrified medical staff, and those idiots with guns just upping the ante. This situation's just waiting to blow up. It's like sitting on a powder keg._ Bed eighty. He went on. Bed eighty-four. _And I'm fighting blind against whatever is causing this. _Bed ninety. _ I can find the root of the problem, if I can't do anything else._

"Doctor?" The woman who addressed him had eyes like a kicked spaniel.

"I'm supposed to relieve you when the..."

A sound made him glance up. Overhead, the banks of lights were shutting down one by one, creating a marching wall of shadow. The lights above them went out.

"night shift's started." The girl's voice was very small. The Doctor could just see her face in the light of small yellow phosphorescent units that glowed like a child's night-light.

Somewhere, someone began to speak frantically. They were afraid of the dark.

The Doctor nodded.

"Thanks. I'll be off then."

Turning away, he could just see the MOF, the green of the laser sights on their guns picking them out like an unpleasant constellation. People moaned and laughed in the dark.

The Doctor's eyes lost focus as he looked inward, checking the time. Seven hours and ten minutes before the medication was ready. The Doctor's thin jaw set.

It was going to be a very long night.


	6. Chapter 6

6

The night shift was beginning. One by one, the banks of overhead fluorescent strips shut down, leaving the secondary illumination to glow weak yellow, throwing dim circles of light that emphasized the shadows. Anyone who was not on duty had found a cot, sleeping in sheer exhaustion or watching figures hurry from bed to bed. Eyes fixed desperately on assigned tasks. Furtive glances were stolen of the men who patrolled the lines of beds, guns in hand.

In a deep pool of shade, beneath a dun tarp, Jenny's nails dug into the palm of her hand. She'd missed _again._ She peered, watching the seated man through the sand-tarp she'd hidden beneath. He was close enough that she could hear his heart beating. He sat as he watched the non-medical personnel, his back to a covered and very convenient stack of storage crates. She'd been waiting for an opportunity to act, hoping a chance would present itself under the cover of darkness and the night-shift activity. And now it had. If she could only take advantage of it.

The man stretched again. He leaned back in his chair, bringing the com unit on his belt tantalizingly close to her fingers.

_Lean back just a bit more…come on…just a bit._

She had to get that com. With it she could alert the other combines to the situation. The other combines had to be alerted. She waited silently.

The man propped his chair back on two legs. Jenny's long fingers flicked out.

_Yes!_

The little com was in her hand. Moving carefully, she eased herself from her concealment. Jenny inched her way towards the dark far end of the combine, sequestering herself out of the line of sight. Carefully, she switched the com on, turning the volume knob to its lowest setting. She worked with the frequency until she hit Combine One's channel. Static blared and crackled, making Jenny slap her hand instinctively over the speaker. She pressed the talk button, leaning in.

"Combine Six to Combine One. Come in, Combine One. Jenny Good to Combine One."

Words came in through a fog of static squeaks and growls.

"Good? Y…assigned…four… what…doing...down in combine six?" The static mangled the sentence on its way through. The storm must be blocking signals. She had to talk fast and get the information delivered.

"Sir, I'm in Combine Six giving aid. We have a serious military issue on the premises-"

The com crackled.

"Good, don't move from….position….sabotage….are…large holes in the road."

Had she caught that last bit right? She shrugged it off. Not important at the moment.

"Sir, there's a serious situation down here. The MOF have taken over the combine, and-" A loud crackle of static cut her report. The connection was gone. Frowning to herself, she tried other frequencies. Combine Two. Nothing. Combine Three. Nothing. Static on every other line. For a good twenty seconds Jenny cursed in her head. She could have alerted the Colony, called in reinforcements and ended the situation here and now. Why, why did the signal have to cut out today of all days?

Then she shook herself. Sitting here was a waste of energy, and she didn't have time to indulge in frustration. She needed to move. She'd been delivering another bio-reader when she'd seen the opportunity, and a much longer absence might be noticed. She couldn't afford to let the guard think that his com had been stolen. She'd have to return it, then go about her duties.

Jenny retraced her steps through the cover positions along the wall. The medic's uniform she'd borrowed really didn't improve her concealment, and she took extra measures in the white and green over-shirt. She drew in her breath, freezing as a MOF passed close to her, then slipped like water out of one cover and under another. Finally, she was back to her position under the sand tarp. All she needed to do was roll the com unit towards the guard's seat, close enough that it would appear to have been dropped. The guard's back was still to the crates. She palmed the com, ready to roll it outwards.

The guard stood. Jenny froze, watching as another MOF walked between the benches, two plates in his hands. He handed one to his compatriot.

"Thanks."

_**Detection will result in neutralization.**_ Jenny immobilized her body against the covered crates, the Words ringing in her head. Two more men stepped in, forming a small circle. Jenny forced her body to relax. Any movement she made could give her away, at this proximity.

_**Reconnaissance is the best weapon of a soldier unable to act.**_ Her eyes fixed intently on the enemy, peering through the thick weave of the tarp. Like co-workers of every culture, the men began to chat as they stood with their meals, their forms rendered in yellow and black by the small illumination strip on the wall.

"Almost done taking Combine Seven." One of the men said between bites. "Should have the other men here in the next two hours. By the way, if any of you are on duty outside tonight, keep an eye out, y'hear? Bon Urda coulda sworn he saw somebody mucking about."

A man who stood a head above his fellows laughed loudly.

"Well, I'm not getting worked up over what a kid says. Probably saw a tumbleweed in the sand and panicked."

"Just watch out."

"Glad I'm not on outside duty, anyway." The man on guard waved his fork, emphasizing his point. "Hate standing out there all night. So how many of us are going to stay in here when the next move is made? They decided yet?"

"Eight, that's the final decision. And keep your voice down."

"Stuff it, Sarl."

"Sure that'll be enough?" another man asked. The tall man shrugged.

"'S really all we can afford, innit? W' all these lads sick. Have to cope. Eight men to a combine, the rest of us move up the chain to take the next one."

_Oh. _Jenny's eyebrows rose. _They're combining advance and caterpillar strategy. Smart move._

"Bet Captain Jackro will be ages with the other men, though." Someone murmured. "He'll want to be thorough."

"It'll be good for him to take his time." The man on the right mumbled.

"He still sick?" the man on the left asked. His tall compatriot shook his head, smiling.

"Nah. Not ol' Jackro, not anymore. Man's strong as a Thoriki. But it may take some time getting the other lads up here anyway."

The man on the left swallowed. "Yeah. You took forever gettin' up here."

The man on the right shrugged.

"Eh, huge shixy holes in the road. Booby traps or something, my carrier nearly went into one."

"Get off," the man on duty said, "Can't be booby traps, 'cause that would mean they knew we were coming. Doesn't work out, see."

All three men shot a glance at the guard. As if they wished he wouldn't speak.

"Some sort of nat'ral process, prob'ly." The tall man said. Heads nodded enthusiastically. But their conversation was awkward now. After a moment, the small group broke up with words about patrol or sleep. The guard returned to his station in the chair.

Jenny breathed. Slowly, very slowly, she lifted the corner of the tarp, judged the distance, and rolled the com. It came to rest just behind the guard's chair. Perfect. Then she slipped from cover, her mind racing. Something outside was unnerving the enemy. More importantly, their captain was recently ill, which meant he was weakened. And he was coming here.

Jenny slipped out of the shadows, pulling out the bio-reader. She sped her steps, mirroring the postures of the medics. Her mind raced.

_Intelligence says that there's about a hundred of the enemy all told. Twenty are incapacitated. That still leaves eighty to…._

"What took you so long?" The medic on duty asked. Jenny shrugged.

"Other duties." She handed him the bio-reader.

"You are signed up for your night shift, right?"

"Not yet."

He frowned at her. "Bit late, innit? That new guy's alone in diagnostics, an' we need all the medics out here. Get over an' give him a hand, an' I'll send the guys over to take down your shift."

Jenny nodded.

The diagnostic bay was simply an area surrounded with opaque sheet plastic that curtained it off from the rest of the combine. Jenny pushed the plastic aside as she entered, blinking at the sudden brightness of the light inside. Her father was standing at one of the counters, typing on a small pad with one hand, holding a protein bar in the other. He took a bite, grimacing as he swallowed.

"Ugh. They gave up a lot in the way of taste when they made these things, didn't they? 'S as bad as food tablets. Anyway, y'mind giving me a hand?"

"Sure. I've been assigned to help you out."

"Oh, assigned. Very nice and efficient." He glanced back at the pad in his hand, and shook his head. Jenny stepped up beside him, looking over the little machine. It held a list of figures, a few that she recognized.

"Well this doesn't make sense at all." The Doctor murmured. He pressed another button, and another set of figures came up.

"What's wrong with it?"

"That's just the thing. There isn't anything wrong, well, nothing unusual. All these readings are fairly normal from beds sixty-four and sixty-five. Only abnormalities are the adrenalin and the reactions to a fever. But there's a lot more going on in there, I know it."

Jenny leaned closer as her father studied the readings. She pitched her voice low.

"I've got some intelligence collected."

"Oh? What'd you-"

He glanced up as Kote and another man pushed aside the curtain.

"Hello. Need something?"

The men stepped into the room, throwing glances over their shoulders.

"We still have some night shifts to fill. Either of you want to sign up for one?"

Jenny stepped forward, taking the signing pad. She put her thumb against a slot for the next five shifts, and handed it back. Kote glanced down, and back at Jenny.

"Come on Good. Not again."

Jenny shrugged.

"I'm good for it."

"You can't-"

"Just put me down, Kote. You know I-"

"I know you think you're super-human. You got-what-two hours sleep last night? And you were up the last three nights before." Kote glowered. "Choose one less shift. You're going to pass out."

"Um, actually, it'll be fine for her." The Doctor said, stepping smoothly in. "Sort of a family inheritance, don't need much sleep, us. I'm taking a few turns myself."

He indicated the pad, which Kote glanced at. He almost glared at both of them.

"Fine. But if you fall asleep on duty, Good, I'll report you to Doctor Orn."

Jenny smiled.

"If I fall asleep, you go ahead."

Kote shook his head, stepping out of the room.  
"Long standing argument?" her father asked. Jenny shrugged.

"He worries because I don't sleep. Can't really. Don't know what's wrong with me. I close my eyes, and three hours later I'm awake again."

"Wrong with you?" the Doctor glanced at her absently. "Nothing wrong with you. 'Cept trying to run on a human sleep cycle. They sleep far too much, really. I was always surprised, the minute that we'd finish something Donna was always…" His words trailed away, and for a moment his eyes didn't seem to see the vial in his hand. He took a breath. "Well, she was always nodding off. Anyway, you were about to say something. Intelligence, was it?"

She hadn't gotten to ask where Donna and Martha were. But now wasn't the time. Watching him as he moved around the room, Jenny related what she'd heard. The Doctor frowned. "Pretty rubbish plan, isn't it? Leaving a bit of your force off at each combine. By the time they get to the last in line they'll have barely anyone."

"Actually the plan's fine." Jenny said quietly, "Combine One isn't particularly well armed. The firepower is spread out between the combines, and the Colony's defensive plan was geared toward the food and mechanical depots, dependent upon support from the other units. If they take each combine in sequence with sudden force, there'll be no cover for Combine One to call on, and no warning to set up defense. I've chosen to work the night shift so that we'll have a legitimate reason to be awake when the rest of the troops arrive with their commander. With any luck we can terminate the first link in the chain of command, destabilize the entire attack."

"I take that to mean you want to kill their leader. That's out, Jenny. O-U-T out, got that?"

"We could capture him and use the possibility of his termination to control his troops." Jenny said. Her father glanced up at her, eyebrows rising.

"Right. You want to create a standoff in here. Somehow that idea doesn't have much appeal for me, not as a first resort. Let's try a bit of talk first."

"Talk?" Jenny asked. Her father rolled his eyes.

"Yes, talk. Diplomacy, you know?" He set down another diagnostic tool, reaching for the long line of vials laid out on the counter, "A few words, a bit of logic, throw in a few bluffs and the odd threat and it invariably works. Well… it almost invariably works. Wellll… often, anyway. And it's worth a shot in this situation. That Pethrin, he seems to have a level head on his shoulders. It takes something important to make somebody like that go rouge. So maybe there's an actual grievance. Hmm, this sample's basically normal too. T-cells are 1900. Fighting something in there, but nothing this machine can isolate. Anyway, point being, we'll start with a bit of a chat when this commander gets here, if we can."

"But that'll give away our advantage." Jenny said. It earned her another exasperated glance.

"Jenny, _your brain_ is your advantage. Use it first. Reason. I even tried to reason with that General Cobb back on Messaline, remember?"

"Yeah." Jenny retaliated. "I remember it got us thrown in a cell." And she knew it wouldn't help this time either.

The Doctor turned fully from his work, glaring at her.

"Look, Jenny, we've got one chance to diffuse this situation successfully. Maybe two. This colony has a slim chance for coming back together. If we fail this colony will rip itself apart, and most of these people will die."

"You can't know that." Jenny said. But he'd said it with such conviction. His dark eyes held hers.

"Yes I can, Jenny. I do."

Jenny stared at the thin man, incredulous. "How?"

"It's in the time lines. There's a handful of good possibilities, but most of the lines turn out bad. Very bad." He glanced away, one hand running through his spiky hair. "The situation's in constant flux, with so many variables, and I can't sort out exactly what will shift it towards a happier scenario just yet. We need to narrow down the possible convergence points. If we can narrow it down we can control it a bit better. Talking to the commander might be the key to that. At least, it's a strong possibility. But it's easy enough to see what any violence will do. This place is like a powder keg. The last thing we want to do is light a match, all right?"

Jenny stared at him as he talked. He spoke like a mechanic expounding on a machine he was intimately familiar with. It obviously made a lot of sense to him. And it sounded important. But Jenny didn't understand half of it. Especially the bit about lines.

"What are 'time-lines'?" she asked. The Doctor started, his attention returning to her. His eyes seemed somehow shadowed now. A little frisson of pain and something like chagrin ran through her mind. He shrugged, half smiling.

"Later I can explain them to you, but we don't exactly have the time right now. Sorry. I talk too much, don't I? Let's just say…I can sort of see the ways things might turn out, depending on different actions. All the what-might-be's. But, enough chat-" He turned on his heel, striding back to the counter. Behind his back, Jenny frowned.

_What did I say wrong that time?_

The Doctor grabbed up a small set of tools, handing them to Jenny. "We need to get back to work on this disease, track the bugger of a microbe down and get it properly identified. We've still got seven hours before we can administer the blockers. So let's use the time wisely. We're going to run every test known to man, and maybe a few that aren't as well. And we'll also have to go out and tend to patients. I'm guessing the advanced cases don't sleep, with all that adrenalin in them, am I right?"

"Yes." Jenny inspected a tool. She didn't have much experience with anything more than first aid. She hoped she'd be able to help. The Doctor talked as he pulled out more vials.

"Well, then you and I will be good for the job, won't we? Biologically perfect for night-nursing. 'Course I'd hate being an actual nurse. Can you imagine me in a little white dress? Or that hat? Lucky they did away with that after a bit. Anyway…"

He turned, tossing his coat on to another counter.

"Let's get to work."

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………

As the rest of the force filed in, Grant saluted his superior.

"Area's secure, sir."

Captain Jackro nodded, his movements quick and decisive. The shock of his red hair almost glowed in the weak light.

"Good, Pethrin." Then he turned, giving instructions to one of his sergeants.

Grant stood at ease, waiting to be asked for his report. Some things never changed, no matter the type of command. Grant had served for fifteen years, and he'd thought he knew them all. Five years ago he'd been an officer on one of the great star liners that frequented the Artemisia Center, before he'd elected to do something in colony work, something that would do some good. He'd seen so many things ahead when he'd made the change. But not mutiny. Not reporting to a rebel commander. Yet that was what had to be done, under the circumstances.

"Sir?"

Jackro whirled on the unfortunate ensign, his eyes wide. The man shouldn't have surprised his commander like that.

"Oneslo! What?!"

The man quailed under Jackro's glare. Grant felt for him. The captain had been a bit snappish lately. But a man who had worked as much and slept as little as Jackro had lately could be excused a bit of temper.

The slight man's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed.

"Reporting on the actions in the synthesis bay, sir. It's powered up because they're making medicine. That's what they said."

"What they said? Didn't you check?" Captain Jackro snapped.

"Yessir, I mean, it doesn't look like anything else."

"Except a liquid explosive, perhaps. Double check. We can't let anything slip by tonight."

_Jackro must want to put the boy through his paces, making him check for explosives. _

"And check the doses administered. Our men might be in danger of poisoning if we aren't on the mark."

Grant thought that was going a bit far. But, no danger in being careful, he supposed.

Oneslo saluted quickly and was gone, leaving Captain Jackro to turn to his Lieutenant.

"Now tell me. How's the situation progressing?"

"Well, sir." Grant replied. "Communications have been blocked as ordered. This storm will make the action barely recognizable. Our troops are nearly assembled."

"Nearly?" Captain Jackro asked.

"Yes, sir, Arno's patrol has yet to arrive.

"Damn him." Captain Jackro growled. "He's taking his bloody time. Man thinks the world revolves around him. I'll have words with him later. How many men are on guard?"

"Ten, sir, as ordered."

"Make it twelve. Keep a closer eye. What about the next move? Everything prepared?"

"Everything will be ready by morning, sir."

Captain Jackro nodded.

"Good. We move after my speech. Keep the men on their toes tonight. We only get one shot at this, Pethrin. One. We have to be ready. No one can interrupt this march. We have to be aware of all possible threats."

Grant nodded.

"Yes sir."

Jackro shot him a quick, fierce smile.

"As you were, then."

As he watched his commander stride off, Grant thought that maybe Jackro was overthinking the situation. It was unlikely that a combine filled with the frightened and the sick could pose a threat.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Six hours and two minutes to go. They had been working for an hour. And they'd come up with nothing. Well, maybe not nothing, the Doctor decided. He had proved his hypothesis; the adrenalin was not being produced by the victim's bodies. He'd managed to isolate a sample; it wasn't actually adrenalin, though it was close enough in chemical structure to act in exactly the same way. Its genetic imprint looked more microbial than anything. And where it was coming from, he still had no idea. He'd checked every component of the blood and body fluids, looking for some hint of an intruder that could produce toxin on this scale. The work took ages with the tools available, which were a good century out of date. It was highly frustrating that something normally so simple was made so tedious by the lack of decent medical equipment. Though, with Jenny's help he'd been able to run through the tests in comparatively record time. She caught on at a fast pace, even for a Gallifreyan. Well, she'd inherited something, at least.

The Doctor checked one last set of readings. Everything from T8 cells to lymphocytes came back with the reactions they'd give to a blood-borne virus. But there wasn't a hint of a virus or microbe in the samples, not even those taken from those furthest along in their condition, near death from exhaustion and nervous-system shock. It looked like the body's defenses were reacting to the DNA in the adrenalin-like compound. But they seemed to be failing miserably against the actual producer. And he had yet to find its hidey-hole.

"You can take those gloves off now." He said, snapping off his own. "We're not going to find our answer in here. Have to try something less pleasant next. You know where the morgue is in here?"

Jenny turned to face him, brushing moonlight hair out of her eyes.

"Yes. Why?"

The Doctor shrugged into his coat, and began dropping tools he'd need into his pockets as he answered. "Because I think we'd better look at this whole thing in situ next. In a body, that is. We need to do a bit of a post-mortem and get biopsy samples. But it's not pretty if you haven't seen it before. How's your stomach?"

"Fully functional. Why?"

"Sorry, that's a turn of phrase." He was going to have to remember how literal she was. "I mean, do you get squeamish, get upset about…oh, no, I suppose you wouldn't. Just checking."

Jenny glanced up at the clock on the shelf.

"Our next shift starts in twenty-five clicks."

"Yeah, I've been keeping account of the time. We'll be able to get a few tests started before we go on duty." He double-checked his supplies, and nodded to himself before glancing up at Jenny. "Lead the way."

Jenny nodded and turned on her heel, pushing her way through the curtain and into darkness. The Doctor followed her. Even in the pitch black before his eyes adjusted he could see Jenny, her pale hair almost luminous in the gloom. Guns swiveled, following them as they moved. The Doctor could see Jenny's jaw clench, but she walked unerringly towards the rear of the building.

The smell of senescent hormones and stagnant blood wafted to meet him the minute they pushed the curtains aside. Beside him, Jenny wrinkled her nose.

"Phew." The Doctor exclaimed, "One thing I do envy that lot, they've got no sense of smell. And sometimes that's a real blessing. Anyway…" his eyes flicked over the available tools, the examination table, and the large many-doored freezer that encased the bodies. He pulled off his great-coat, and set about his work.

The first victim was a young woman with long blue hair. The Doctor laid her cold body carefully on the slab.

"Jenny, bring that tray of tools over, the one on the right."

Jenny stepped over with the tray, her eyes riveted on his hands as he chose a long laser scalpel and a smaller, delicate cutter. He turned back to the girl, tools in hand.

"I'm sorry." He murmured. Not that it did the girl much good. She'd been dead for days.

As carefully as he could, he made an incision just between her first and second ribs.

"In my pockets are a whole bunch of analy units. I'm extracting a bit of heart tissue right now, so set it for semi-striated muscle."

Taking the sliver of yellow-grey muscle, he dropped it into the chute of the hand-held analysis unit that Jenny proffered, talking as he worked.

"We're going to need to take tissue samples from the thymus, the cortex of the brain and the hypothalamus, for logical starters. Then maybe the bone marrow, if we still haven't got a hit. And we'll do that on each of the bodies, to be sure. I counted four in here, two that died today and two a few days prior I think. So, let's do thymus next. Ready?"

He glanced at Jenny. She was stiff as titanium, her eyes fixed on the middle distance.

"You okay?" he asked. Her eyes snapped to his.

"Yes sir. Fine."

…………………………………………………………………………

Orso brought the butt of his gun down. The man beneath him lay still. He glared down at the guy, who had to be patently crazy. One click he was lying in bed, the next he was up and swinging.

Orso glanced up. Lieutenant Pethrin was storming over, blue eyes blazing in his tanned face.

"Sergeant Terme! What the hell do you think you're doing?"

_Oh great. Pethrin playing high and mighty again._

"Subduing an assault, sir. This man attacked me."

"This man," Pethrin said through gritted teeth, "is delirious with fever. You just attacked an unarmed and very ill civilian, Sergeant."

"With all respect, sir." Orso shot back, "I was supposed to let this a- this man punch me in the face?"

"You could have restrained him."

"I did, Sergeant."

"No, you beat him. If we weren't in action right now, I would have you…"

"What's going on here?"

Both men turned to see their Captain striding up. Pethrin saluted.

"Sir, I was reprimanding Terme about his conduct. He willfully took violent action against one of the patients."

Orso glared at him. _One of these days, Pethrin, you'll get yours._

Then he realized that the Captain was staring at him.

"Is this true, Terme?"

Orso paused.

"Well?"

"Not exactly, sir."

"Explain it exactly then."

Orso told him. To his surprise, Jackro nodded.

"Good. A sensible response. Could have been an attack."

"Sir?" Pethrin sounded almost shocked. "He attacked a-"

"A man who looked like a serious threat. We have to be aware of every possible threat, Pethrin. I told you that. Every contingency. Have to be ready. As you were."

Captain Jackro strode away. For a moment, neither of his subordinates moved a muscle. Pethrin stared after their commander, his eyes wide. He glanced back at Orso.

"Get back to your duty post. Don't let me catch you at that again. And ask some of the medics to get this man back to bed." Then he walked away.

Behind him, Orso shrugged.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Grant Pethrin marched down the dark rows of beds, down to where his men slept. He was going to have to keep a closer eye on Terme. The man was an idiot. Didn't he understand that he'd be living with these people again, once their action was complete?

His pale eyes moved from face to face. Some of them were really just boys. Some days he still couldn't understand why he was giving them orders.

One of his men cried out in his sleep. Dorso Willan. Had been a second-class steersman before the crash. The man beside him had been an engineer, and still managed to keep things running long past their probable expiration.

Grant's eyes wandered further. The half light rendered his face impassive to all but the most careful observers.

He'd asked to lead the advance on Combine Six to see this. He'd been so sure that once the men were here, they'd be all right. The doctors and medics had so much more at their disposal than his own camp. He'd been so sure.

He passed other beds. One of the men was twitching, twisting in his sleep. Jeffry Parns. Advance scout, and one of the most eager they had. He'd ignored the fever right up to the day he fainted.

He never should have been so lax about protection during the storms. He should have watched the men more carefully. He was one of the five Lieutenants, and as such he should have had more awareness of the dangers.

Moving down the row, he passed one of his able-bodied men.

"Kanst."

The man nodded deferentially.

"Sir."

"Have you gotten any sleep tonight?"

"No, sir. I'm on duty."

"Grab a cot. I'll stand guard for now."

The younger man cocked his head in the half-light.

"Sir?"

"Go on. Like I said."

Still unsure, the man on guard unslung his gun, handing it to Grant, who strapped it on with practiced ease. He'd trained with a model like this in his early days with the Artemisia Corps. He stood at military rest, legs wide, hands behind his back. And he watched his men.

………………………………………………………………………..

Jenny felt like there was acid in her chest. She'd almost slammed her fist into the wall when she saw Tella laid out on the slab. Dead. How could Tella be dead?

The next body was worse. It was Eser. She worked with Eser all the time. He'd come down with the fever, sure. But she'd been sure he'd be all right. Now she was helping to take tissue samples out of him.

She knew the next body too. Her father's voice bounced around the room.

"Well, now that sample's negative for microbes too. There really ought to be something, ought to be some _sign_ of something. I checked for chameleon microbes of the first, second and third families already too. I'm missing something. Set those seven tests aside, they'll take an hour to run. Let's go for…limbic system! That might do it. And try setting this test for a smaller family of microbes. Maybe we're missing it because our parameters are too large."

Jenny moved with detached efficiency, her face remote. She tried not to see her father stick a needle into the dead flesh at the back of Lance's neck. But her eyes seemed to be riveted.

"You knew him, didn't you?" the Doctor asked, pulling the needle free with a wet 'schtick.'

"I did." Jenny replied. Her words came out clipped.

"Friend of yours?"

"Lance was a good man." She turned, setting up the next analy.

"He used to come over while we worked and tell us about what they were finding in the pits."

"Pits?"

"Archeology excavations. There was a culture here a while back. It's a hobby for some of the former archeologists to dig it up on their spare time. Eser used to do it too. And Ben. Ben's is the body we haven't worked on yet."

"I'm sorry, Jenny." Her father said softly. He glanced down at the body on the table. Then his frame stiffened. His eyes shot back to her face.

"Three of these cases worked in the excavations?"

Jenny nodded. Her father's dark eyes sharpened.

"Well, that's interesting. Very, very interesting. We've got the very first cases here, and three of them were working in the same area. Are there any other archaeologists in here, still alive? Do you know?"

"I think so…yeah. I saw Carol down around the middle of the third row."

"Well then, you're going to have to introduce me to Carol. It's about time for our shift anyway. There's a very good possibility that all this is linked to something that's been dug up, I mean it's happened before, can't tell you how many times. I need to talk with her, post haste, find out what's been going on there."

Jenny stepped out, keeping pace with her father. There were men everywhere. MOF's. Moving around, opening more cots, marching down the room.

"Rest of the party's arrived, I see." The Doctor muttered drily. Jenny almost ground her teeth. She was letting this happen. Why wasn't she _doing_ anything?

She analyzed the troop movements as they walked. They moved in a simple formation, returning to their superiors for orders.

Watching the interactions, she tracked the orders as they were issued, trying to find the source. Finally, she spotted her object. The man stood in a circle of subordinates, giving orders, his fire-colored hair catching in the little light there was. For just a moment, she got a good look at his face. Strong. Wary. Dangerous. That was the enemy.

"Something bothering you?" Her father murmured.

"I can see their Captain."

The Doctor glanced over. His brow furrowed.

"Ah. Red haired. That's fitting."

"Why?"

"Because I've got a good look at him now. Remember what I said about this place being a powder keg? Continuing the analogy, I think he's the match."


	7. Chapter 7

7

The Doctor had meant to go straight to meet Carol. But he'd gotten side-tracked. And a little desperate. The drugs weren't doing any good in the advanced cases.

"Don't touch me! Don't touch me, get away from me, just let me go!"

The Doctor brushed the man's forehead. Skin contact.

_Relax._

He hadn't intended to use his telepathy so obviously, but it worked better than the medical treatments. The man sank back into his pillow.

Another patient, pulling at her hair until tufts of it were missing.

"Take this. It'll help you sleep." It was twice the recommended dose, but any less was ineffective.

The next bed. A small boy whose heart had fibrillated twice in the last hour. He added another component to his IV. Hopefully it would bring down the heart rate.

In the back of his head, information and ideas were ticking by. So many people sick, but no common source of infection. Every test he'd run passed its way through his mind. All of them negative. What was he missing?

He laid a hand against a young woman's wrist for a moment. Skin contact.

"Relax, you're all right."

Her taunt muscles relaxed. For the moment. He moved on.

The next bed. The woman jumped as she noticed him approaching. He checked over the bioreader.

Carol Chantrek. _Carol. Finally._

"Hello." He said quietly. She was a tiny person, her hair a scruffy pixie cut that puffed around her head. The bags beneath her eyes were nearly purple.

"Hello. Who are you?"

"A doctor. Just here to give you a check. Says you've been sick for sixteen days here, right? Well, you're handling it very well." Actually she wasn't. But the words made her smile tightly.

"Yeah, I think I am. I feel like getting up and walking around again, anyway."

The Doctor nodded."Well that's good. You want to get up and take a walk?"

"Sure. They told me off the last time I tried."

The Doctor smiled slightly.

"Well, it's Doctor's orders this time. Come on."

Carefully, he helped her out of bed. He could feel her pulse beating away like mad under the skin. Had to be careful. Too much exertion would bring the heart rate to dangerous levels.

"So, Carol Chantrek. That accent…Atlantica?"

"Yeah. You know Atlantica?"

"Just a bit. What end are you from?

"The Northwest."

Her gait was awfully unsteady.

"Hmm. That's a nice area."

She smiled.

"Yeah. I liked it. But I signed up for a bit more experience in my field."

_Some experience._

"And what field is that, then? Oh, watch your feet. Here, lean on me."

Her fingers dug into the fabric of his suit. She straightened herself, gasping slightly.

"I work… with group dynamics. Got signed up to help out with… morale."

"Must be interesting." The Doctor said, trying to keep the conversation going. "Heard you picked up a hobby around here, too. Archaeology, what's that like then?"

The woman gave him a quick, nervous glance.

"When did you talk about the digs?"

"Oh, just in passing. Chit-chat. So, I'm always curious, while we're walking- why don't you tell me about the digs? Find anything interesting?"

"Quite a lot, actually-" Her eyes shot towards the guards. "Their guns are pointed at us. Can we move? Can we-"

"Oh, ignore them. They're not going to do anything right now. What kind of things have you found?"

They'd reached the end of the beds, and the Doctor held the small woman tightly, helping her to turn. Her hands had begun to shake again. But her voice was steady when she spoke.

"Well, it started with these underground dome-walls. The outer layer was a high-grade ceramic, and we had to use lasers on it. The inner layer was more like compacted sand, and we got through that fairly fast, after we dug down to it."

"How deep down was it?"

"Fourteen tesars."

Fifteen feet, or just about.

"So how'd you know anything was there?"

Carol laughed, her voice high and sharp.

"Funny story. We picked up really weird readings when we were deciding where the crop fields should go. Did a sonar scan and bingo, these huge dome-shapes appeared. So we started to check it out, couple of us. Only on spare time of course. I never shirk my duty."

"Of course you don't." the Doctor said softly. He was starting to lose her.

"So what was inside these domes?"

"It was a city. We've opened two domes so far. One of them seems to be some sort of communal eating area, and the other, we think it's either a temple or a tomb."

"Oh? Why's that, then?"

"It's the offerings. We think they're offerings, anyway. All kinds of artifacts are stored in these vacuum-sealed ceramic boxes, then just left in the atrium. Everything that you need for a home, all arranged in this sunburst pattern. Even a couple of ships, space worthy, though we weren't able to figure out how they start or how they're powered. It's like they stored everything to last forever, like it was supposed to go to the afterlife with them, or whatever version of an afterlife they had. We haven't gotten into the next room yet. And there's writing all over the walls, paintings too. We have an idea of what these people looked like from them. But we still don't know where the people went to."

She stumbled, and the Doctor caught her hand. Almost as cool as his own.

"Of course now it's obvious. They died. This thing, whatever it is it came, and they all died. And now it's going to kill us too." She let out another laugh, a tinny, unnatural sound.

"Oh, don't be daft, Carol." The Doctor chided. He needed her to keep using her sense of reason, prevent her from panicking. "If they'd all died, youd've found bodies, wouldn't you?"

"Maybe we just haven't gotten to them yet." Carol snapped.

"Nah. People going through a plague don't set things up neatly before they die. Plagues are messy. Ever read about the Red Plague on Ballicorix? Blimey, that was really unpleasant. Be glad you weren't there. But, back to the point. How long have you been working on this, exactly?"

"Two years. Hard work, too. And some of it's really delicate. There are these intricate designs of sand that'd been cemented on to the outer surface of the dome tops. We managed to protect them from wind when we excavated, partly just because the hole's so deep. But when it rained we almost lost the patterns. All of us who could were out there trying to cover them. What was that?"

"What was what?" the Doctor asked. He nearly had her back to her bed. Carol pointed a shaking finger at the shadow behind bed forty-three.

"That, there! Something moved. I saw something move!"

Carol's eyes were still locked on the shadows as the Doctor eased her back in to her bed. Her chest rose and fell in an erratic, unsteady rhythm. He kneeled beside her.

"Carol. Look at me."

She tore her eyes away, staring at him now. This time he didn't skimp on the telepathic suggestion. He poured it out with his words.

"There's nothing in the shadows. You may be seeing some funny things for a while yet. Just until we can get some medicine for you. But remember, none of it's real. Trust me. None of it can hurt you."

Her eyes were still huge.

"But I saw it! It's coming to get me!"

The words came out high-pitched and child-like. The Doctor laid his hand on hers, holding her wide eyes.

"Nothing's going to hurt you. Not while I'm here. Go to sleep, Carol Chantek. Close your eyes."

And he led her into unconsciousness. She slumped back against her pillow. He hoped that she would sleep for a while before the adrenalin woke her. He could hope.

The Doctor pushed himself to his feet. As he turned away, he noticed that there was one thing in the shadows. Pethrin was standing at something like a parade rest, looking over the patients. He glanced at the Doctor, and nodded in the gloom.

After a moment, the Doctor returned the nod, before turning on his heel.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Doctor Maggie Orn was boiling mad. But she couldn't do a thing about it, and she wasn't stupid enough to think that she could. So she carried on with her work. At least they'd allowed her that.

She glared at the next gunman she saw. The idiots. They were going to destroy everything that had been done here. All so helmsman Seth Jackro could play king.

She took a bio-reader from one of the medics. It was one of the rebel's charts.

"How long has he been sick?" she demanded. She knew the answer. Nearly all the MOF were two-week old cases. But it helped the girl, who she judged to be in something of a shock state, to focus. The girl fiddled continuously with what Orn knew to be a Great God Sigil in her pocket as she spoke.

"Two weeks, Ma'am. The first case they've had was a month ago."

"A month?" Doctor Orn looked up. "I don't remember seeing a case that far along."

"He isn't one of the cases, Ma'am."

Doctor Orn nodded.

"Well. Add six units of Traqiusun, and whatever Reesemax we have left. Carry on."

The medic hurried away. Doctor Orn watched her for a moment. Poor kid.

As she watched, she caught sight of Jackro, striding past with two of his followers. His head turned, and he pointed at the young medic. The two men detached. Before Doctor Orn could process the situation, the two men had the girl slammed against the wall of the combine.

Doctor Orn didn't think. She sprinted.

"Hey! What do you think you're doing?"  
One of the men, who had his hands in the terrified girl's vest pocket, glanced at her. Oh dear God, it was Terme. She hadn't liked him on ship, and three years had turned him into a true ruffian.

"Weapon check. Get lost, Orn"

"A weapon check? Because she had her hand in her pocket? She's got a Sigil you idiot, not a knife!" Doctor Orn stepped forward, anger radiating off her small frame.

"Let her go this-"

Terme brought his weapon up, and the look on his face said that he would use it. Doctor Orn stood in impotent fury. This situation was getting worse all the time.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Grant had returned to his place, watching his men in the dark. The oddly dressed doctor was back again, checking over the men. He moved with quick efficiency. Soon he was near the end of the row.

"You still here then." The man said, shooting Grant a sideways glance.

"How are my men doing?" Grant asked.

"Very badly. You should have gotten them decent treatment quite a while ago."

"And how do you suggest we were to do that?" Grant asked. His voice came out much tighter than he'd intended.

The man shrugged.

"Oh I don't know. Could have called a truce, maybe. Asked to discuss the situation. That actually works more often than you'd expect, you know."

Grant smirked at this man who knew so little about the situation.

"You think so?"

"More often than shooting, anyway."

"If you can say that, you don't know Captain Arda."

The doctor glanced at Grant over his shoulder. "But you do. Served on his ship for-what was it? Nine months? What was he doing so badly as a Captain, then? Beatings at dawn? General dictatorship? If you say the bad food that's not very fair, because I don't think he's a much better cook than you lot."

That earned a small smile from Grant.

"You hit pretty close to the mark. At this point, I don't care what it tastes like, I'll eat most anything."

The man glanced at him, almost a sympathetic look. "Short on food?"

"Always."

"I bet you'd get a bit more in the combines. Everyone I've seen has been getting their fair share. And I know for a fact that one girl in here eats quite a lot."

Grant turned away, staring at the beds.

"I don't think you've been here long enough to decide you understand the conditions."

"Oh, you'd be surprised what I can decide in a little time." The man straightened from the last bed in the row, his spiky hair black in the dim light. "I've already decided that there are an awful lot of reactionaries in your crew. It sounds to me like you acted awfully quickly three years ago."

"We did what was necessary. Under the circumstances."

"Oh really? Seems not everyone agreed about that."

"Not everyone knew the full story."

"You didn't tell them."

Grant turned to meet the man's eyes, glaring.

"Don't you think I tried? When the rumors began to circulate I tried to discuss them with the Captain, but he refused to talk about the problem. Said that the fact I was listening to Jackro was a sign of insubordination."

He wondered why he was telling this man so much. But something about his face, calm and attentive as he listened, made Grant feel…he didn't know quite how he felt. The thin man nodded.

"Yes. So you bring a possible accusation against your Captain to his attention, and he more than denies it, he won't even talk it over. Bet that made you suspicious. What was it?"

Grant sighed. "Jackro gave evidence that Captain Arda had been keeping a large cache of food back from us. I didn't believe it at first. But when he reacted like that-"

"It made you sure he was up to something. I can see where it would."

So that was it, the Doctor thought. A leader who held his reigns so tightly that he alienated his men had mixed with a lot of desperation and a man who knew how to take advantage of it.

"By the way, what was the proof Jackro offered you, if I might ask?"

Grant looked at the cots across from him. "Captain Jackro will explain it. He'll be giving a speech tomorrow morning."

"Ooh, speech." The man leaned back on the heels of his bright red shoes, glancing down the long rows. "I like a speech, 'slong as it's short. Some of you lot can really waffle. Going to explain to all and sundry then, I take it. Might have worked better if he had started out that way, instead of sneaking about."

Grant's jaw stiffened.

"You're out of line."

The young doctor nodded absently. "Oh, I know. Happens a lot. I never seem to know where the line is, especially when I see guns pointed at innocent people. And you know, I have a feeling it won't stop there. Military takeovers rarely turn out well. I know you're hoping for a bloodless coup, and maybe you believe that's what will happen. But do you really think this is going to end peacefully? There's anger in a lot of your men, and fear, and desperation. And humans are at their most dangerous when they're running on those three."

"You're seeing things."

Now the man turned to face him fully, all calm stripped away. His were eyes deep, vivid, impossible to avoid, and Grant found that he couldn't look away. "Oh yes, Grant Pethrin, I'm seeing a lot of things. Let me tell you what I'm seeing. I see a group of people struggling to survive, needing every ounce of help they can get, fighting just to keep afloat. And I see your lot, making it that much harder to keep going, making it more likely that you'll all fail and die quick, meaningless deaths and leave these buildings to the storms and the rats and the grass." The Doctor finally had Pethrin's attention; the man's eyes were huge, wide in the dark. But he had to show him the alternative. Had to show him the way it could be.

"And then I see you, making amends, joining forces. There's a hundred of you MOF. With your added hands at the wheel, you could make things so _much_ better here. I can see an end to the fighting, success, prosperity, no more children hearing gunshot before they can walk. And it's completely possible. If you act now."

For a moment, the Doctor thought he'd gotten his point home. Maybe the man was listening. Then shutters fell behind his eyes again. He turned on his heel, turned away from the Doctor.

"You're just a doctor. Do your job."

The Doctor stared after him.

"Oh I am. Trust me, I am."

…………………………………………………………………………………………………..

"Terme!"

Orso looked up from the task at hand, one hand still pressed against the flat of the medic's back to hold him there. Pethrin was storming up to him. Now what was he going to get up about?

"Release that man. Now!"

Orso held his position a moment. Then, slowly, he lifted his hand. The man shot both of them a wide-eyed glance, and bolted. He'd have to finish checking that guy later.

Pethrin stepped within millimeters of his face. His words gritted out between his teeth.

"What. Are. You. _Doing_?"

"Weapons check, _sir._ Captain says we need to be on our toes." Pethrin's stare didn't soften. Orso returned it. He wasn't backing down any more. Pethrin might have been in charge while Jackro was sick. But he wasn't the top man he thought he was. Not by a damn sight.

"Weapons check. Are you _trying_ to antagonize these people, Terme? Are you _trying_ to cause an incident?"

"I'm trying" Orso grated out, "to keep prisoners under surveillance and protect this march. If one of them so much as grabs a laser they could-"

"Have you found any weapons on anyone?"

"No sir, not yet. But they might-"

"They might? They _might_?" Pethrin's eyes were pale and baleful.

"If you keep this up, they _might _be antagonized into doing something stupid. We are here to overthrow Arda. Not threaten people who we'll be living with once we're successful. Stop thinking with your gun, or I'll take you off duty."

Orso snorted. "You can't-"

"If I have to tie you into a sand tarp and lob you in the back of the combine I will."

Orso's fingers bunched into fists.

"I'm trying to make this mission successful. _Sir."_

Pethrin's jaw clenched. Then he seemed to relax. He gave Orso a tight smile.

"All right, Sergeant. You want to make sure this mission goes off well? Then go and check the navigation circuits in the carriers. Check every pattern vector. And run a visual diagnostic. Log your check on each carrier when you've done it. You have your orders."

Orso couldn't believe it. Pethrin was going to send an able-bodied man away from the action, on a stupid detail that would probably take all night. The bloody bastard! It was all he could do not to punch Pethrin, who was still staring at him.

"You have your orders. Sergeant."

_You bloody son of a bitch!_

He didn't say it. He even managed to grind 'yes, sir' out between his teeth as he marched away. He mashed on a pair of thermo-goggles, and pulled on a mask.

The wind and the darkness gave him something to fight as he made his way to the carriers where they sat, ready to be deployed. He shouldn't have taken the order. He should have reported it to the Captain. The Captain saw things more realistically. This was war, after all. They weren't going to win by being polite. He wrenched open the door of the first carrier in line. The first of twenty. Damn Pethrin!

He punched the buttons to start the diagnostic. He'd have to run the check before the computer would let him log that he'd done it. The nav began to work, running over the longitude and latitude degrees for each of the movements it made on the path from their base to Combine Seven. It was going to take ages. God damn Pethrin! Closed in the carrier, he let loose a long stream of oaths. Pethrin was a controlling ass. He even tried to advise the Captain sometimes. Orso didn't know why the Captain allowed it. Thank the Great God that Jackro had recovered from the fever. Pethrin was bad enough as a Lieutenant, as a Captain he would have been impossible.

The numbers scrolled past on the nav. Granted, Orso thought, the Captain had been a little tight lately. But Orso could see why. The guy was the strongest he'd ever met. He could go longer without food or sleep than any of them. But he had gone right from lying sick in bed to planning this attack. It had been a hard month, even for him.

Not that he'd had to completely design the plan. It had been in the works for months, though the Captain had said they wouldn't use it until they exhausted all chance of communication with Earth or other colonies. Well, they were well and truly exhausted now, he'd announced two weeks ago. About time too.

The nav beeped. Done. Orso logged his signal, and pushed himself out of the driver's seat. One down, nineteen to go. _Damn Pethrin._

He snapped on his mask and goggles. The wind hit him, as usual, like a wave of sand paper.

_Damn planet._

He slipped into the next carrier, hitting the buttons to get the program going. He sat back, pulling off his mask.

Something flashed outside. Orso looked up. He hadn't taken off his thermo-goggles, and through them the world was a blur of colors, the cherry-red of the combine off to the right. He peered around. Nothing. Must have been-his head snapped around. There. A figure was standing, facing in his direction. And there was another figure. And another. Orso's eyes were wide behind the lenses.

"Oh, shix."

It had to be forces from the other combines.

The figures glanced at one another. Then they turned, moving out of range.

Orso snapped his mask back on, programs forgotten. The enemy was here. Somehow, they'd been alerted. He had to report this to the Captain.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

"Up! Everybody up! NOW!" The shout brought a rush of boots pounding through the room. The banks of lights blazed into life overhead.

Pethrin ran to where his superior stood, arms crossed over his chest. To his chagrin, he noticed Terme beside the Captain.

"Sir! What-"

Captain Jackro's eyes snapped to his face.

"Wake up our men. Get every single patient out of bed. Search them. Search everywhere. Line everyone up. They've got to be searched."

"For what, Sir?"

Jackro's eyes flickered around the room as he spoke. "Com-links. Someone has a com-link, someone's alerted other combines. Enemy troops have been seen outside. We have to find that com-link!"

"But sir," Grant said, "we've knocked out wireless signalling. A com wouldn't be able to transmit-"

The roving eyes turned to pierce him again. Something in his captain's eyes made a little tickle of unease run along Grant's spine.

"Are you questioning my order?"

"Sir?"

"Are you questioning me?" His eyes glinted.

"No, sir." _What is he doing?_

"Good. Then go wake the men."

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

The Doctor glanced up, blinking as the dim lights brightened to day-cycle intensity. Screams and shouts ran through the combine. He hadn't even checked the tests yet. What was going on now?

He pulled aside the curtain of the morgue. The moment he did, two sets of hands grabbed him.

"Oi!'

"Shut up." One of the men growled. His partner began rifling the Doctor's suit pockets. Good thing he had taken his coat with its rather specially enlarged pockets off. The man pulled out the sonic screwdriver.

"What the 'ell is this?"  
Another good thing was that he was in the forty-ninth century, a good bit before hand-held sonic devices.

"High-end eye-exam tool." He said, watching the man look it over. "Want a check?"

The man glared, and thrust it back in the Doctor's pocket.

"Get over to the wall with everyone else. Now."

The Doctor moved. No sense in starting a problem until it would do some good. The gunmen were getting every patient out of bed, lining them up against the wall. Some of them were poking at the beds, even shaking the mattress pads. _What are they looking for?_

He moved into the crowd. Jenny was beside him in a moment.

"What's the situation?" she asked.

"No idea." He replied, watching the MOF mill around the room, "I was in the morgue. What'd you hear?"

"A lot of orders, instructions for all of them to get up and search. It's not a weapons check; they've done that already." She paused to catch a woman who nearly tripped as she stepped backwards, trying to distance herself from the guns.

"Mary, it's okay. It's okay."

"Here." The Doctor said, putting a hand on the terrified woman's arm. A dreamy look came into her eyes, and her muscles relaxed. Jenny set her back on her feet, her eyes on her father.

_He just did that. He made her relax somehow. Later I have to ask about that._

She opened her mouth to speak. The shout from the front of the crowd cut her off.

"Quiet!"

The room fell silent, save a few whimpers and sobs. The rebel captain stood in front of the crowd, his eyes running over them all. Perfect shot. Oh, if only she had her gun.

"Somebody has a com-link. Who has it?"

Silence.

"Who has it?!" he yelled. There was a flop as someone behind them fainted. Jenny's fists clenched.

_Calm down. We can't act right now._

Jenny's eyes riveted themselves on the enemy captain. He'd begun to pace up and down the length of the crowd. Her father's eyes fixed on him as well. Here was the root of the problem. The moment the Doctor had seen the rebel leader he knew that most of the events started or ended with him. Seeing him up close, he was sure of it. The timelines around him knotted tightly, filled with the possibilities of bloodshed and death. Jackro stopped in front of them, looking each of them in the eye. The Doctor's attention sharpened. Those eyes…

"If you come forward now, there will be no reparation. Just tell me where it is." He turned, red hair glinting in the white overhead lights.

The lean man, Pethrin, stepped up. The captain nodded, and turned back to the crowd.

"We've done a full sweep for your com. You must have disposed of it. We've seen your forces outside. Tell me how many combines were reached."

Something flickered in Time. Something bad was going to-

"Go to the Hells!" someone yelled in a panicky voice. The Doctor's gut tightened. This could be a trigger point-

Jackro's gun came up, pointing itself into the crowd. Twitching left…right…then it lowered. Jackro drew a deep breath.

Something was wrong with the way he moved. It was too fast. Too jerky. He stared into the crowd, his face almost earnest.

"You only say that now. Wait, you'll see. Soon, I can tell you. But not yet."

The Doctor moved closer. He had to get a better look.

Jackro turned to Pethrin, who stood by his side.

"Return the civilians to their places. And get these damned lights out. Keep the men here, and call everyone inside. I want to speak to everyone."

"The guards-"

"Everyone. Now."

Then Jackro turned, and for a moment, the Doctor saw his eyes. The eyes. They were dark. They were dilated.

"Oh no." the Doctor murmured.

This explained the danger he had seen in the man. The leader of the rebel faction, this man who could start a bloodbath, was far into the secondary stage of disease. Right now, adrenalin was running in his blood like madness, driving him into paranoia.

As the crowd began to disperse, the Doctor moved as fast as he dared after Pethrin. He had to get someone to see sense.

"Pethrin!"

"I'm busy at the moment, Doctor."

"Yes, but you need to hear this." The Doctor kept pace with the other man, striding through the crowd.

"We were talking about your former captain. Can I ask about your present one for a moment? He's been quick to react for a while now, hasn't he? A bit snappish? Temperamental?"

Actually he had, Grant thought. But the thought was gone as fast as it had come. It was the stress of command and three hard years. The man still dogged his steps.

"Lieutenant, has he been sick? Has he had the fever?"

"Yes. He was one of our first cases, and he's been our first to recover."

"No, Lieutenant, he hasn't been. This disease, it progresses past fever. Later cases grow paranoid, delirious and unable to sleep. Sound familiar? Look at the other cases if you want proof. It's bad now in him, and it's going to get worse. You've got to stop it."

Grant picked up his pace.

"I haven't seen a sign of that."  
"Yes you have. Strange actions? He gets surprised and angered easily? How long has it been since he slept?"

"My captain's actions are no concern of yours."

"They are if they're going to get people killed. Grant, if you don't pay attention people are going to die! Stop walking and listen to me!" the man grabbed his arm.

Grant swung sideways, pivoting away from the grasp.

"As of now I'm putting you under guard, Doctor. I've heard enough out of you." He motioned two of his men over.

"I want you to guard this man. Let him go about his work. Just stay near him."

The men saluted.

For just a moment, he glanced at the tall man. And in his eyes he saw a kind of anger, a sorrow and a panic that made his skin crawl.

He turned away. He had orders to follow.

Watching Pethrin stride away, the Doctor did his best to stand still. His mind was running over every avenue, every possibility. Not many. The time lines were growing fewer.

And still three hours before the medication that could save them was ready.

The match was lit, some part of his mind commented.


	8. Chapter 8

8

The men were ringed in a semi-circle, watching their Captain. He was pacing, looking at them all.

"Men, the time is coming. Time for us to act. We've waited three years, and what have we done? Nothing! But now, we are going to end the stranglehold Arda has held on this colony."

A cheer from the men. Grant glanced at their flushed faces. They trusted their captain. Even in the worst of times he was a good leader.

"Tonight we're going to end the hunger!"

Cheers.

"Arda's men will fall under us. Men, you have the strength and the firepower to flatten them! We're going to tear down that man and show him just what he deserves!"

Cheering. Grant's gut clenched.

_It won't stop there. Military takeovers rarely turn out well. _

"Men, he's starved you. Made you live in dust and darkness. Tonight we'll change all that! Change, no matter the cost, it's coming! We're bringing it! When you march, know that what you do is opening the doorway to a bright future. Fight, men! Fight with every bullet and every move!"

_Do you really think this is going to end peacefully? There's anger in a lot of your men, and fear, and_ _desperation._

"We have to win! Have to! We'll destroy Arda today! Because once we do, we'll be free to focus on contacting Earth! We're fighting to go home, men! It's time to fight for that!" Jackro's eyes flickered around the cheering crowd. Something about them was wrong. _It's bad now in him, and it's going to get worse._ Pethrin pushed the niggling sense away. He was overreacting. He should be proud right now. Around him men were grinning, yelling. Yet their smiles made something twist inside him. They were too much like snarls._ There's anger in a lot of your men, and fear, and_ _desperation._ He could see it in those smiles.

Jackro raised his gun over his head. "Get ready, men! We've got nothing to wait for now! In an hour, we move out!"

Every one of the men was looking at their leader. Eyes full of pride or horror, doubt or fierce assurance. None of them saw the blue-black eyes watching them from behind unused tables stacked against the wall. None of them saw a pale figure slip to a disused docking-hatch, push it open, and wriggle out into the swirling dark.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Jenny held her breath as she pushed against the wind. She could just see the carriers in the dark. Only an hour to act. She had to move fast. That speech made the enemy's position perfectly clear. The attack outlined was going to cause massive collateral damage at the very least. She couldn't let it happen.

She'd thought about grabbing a gun and shooting their leader. But at this point that would only give them impetus and a martyr to fight for, not to mention creating dangerous confusion. Someone was bound to die. This was a better course of action. Commandeer a carrier, get to another combine and alert them. She reached the first carrier. They could bring reinforcements and-

There right front tire of the carrier had a locking sleeve on it. There was no way she could get it off, not without tools. And it wasn't going to move with that on. She moved to the next carrier in line, her eyes slitted against the wind. Same thing. In frustration, she kicked the tire.

_DAMN DAMN Damn! Okay, abort that plan. They really designed this well. No enemy can take these carriers even if they reached them, and they couldn't do much except maybe destroy them. So, what can I-_

Her eyebrows shot up.

_Destroy them._

Jenny glanced over the carrier. She took a breath, and coughed as sand irritated her throat. She wouldn't be able to stay out here much longer without a mask.

_Destroy them._

She couldn't get to the other combines. But right now she could stop the MOF from getting there as well. She could buy time.

Kneeling at the rear of the vehicle, just behind the engine block, she stuck her hand up, under the struts of the chassis. Her fingers found six wires, and she disconnected them one by one. Finding an intake valve, she gave it a good yank. It came away in her hand. She gave a small, remote smile in the dark.

_Lot more to do. Better move._

……………………………………………………………………………………………..

The Doctor did the only thing he could. He hurried towards the morgue. Perhaps he could find something, anything, in the cause of the disease to help him find a solution. Details ran through his head. It was like holding a curio puzzle. There were a thousand pieces that you could pull at. But only the right sequence would unlock the answer.

_Like adrenalin, but not actually adrenalin._

_No virus. But the body defenses reacting to one._

_Used to be a culture here. Gone now._

_Temperature peaks, then falls off at two weeks._

_Jackro's a month along. Nobody else has survived that long. Maybe if I scared him I could…No, it's gone beyond him now. I'd have to prove him wrong to stop this. Kill him and another man will just take his place._

_Nothing in any of the tests. Where could the cause be? Think, think, you old fool!_

He pushed the curtain aside. His gunmen moved to follow him. He turned on them, eyes blazing.

"I don't have time for this. Stand out here."

"We were ordered to-"

"Interfere with me? Mess up the results? No. Stay out here. I'm working."

The men didn't move. But they didn't try to enter. Good.

The Doctor moved to check his results. They told him nothing. He bared his teeth in frustration, one hand digging into his hair.

_Fine. I'll do it the old fashioned way._

Turning on his heel, he brushed aside the curtain, striding towards the diagnostics room.

"What are you doing?" A gunman asked.

"Trying to save lives. Don't get in the way."

The Doctor grabbed a microscope, and ran back to the morgue. At least the microscope was decent. He wouldn't have to mess about with slides. Pulling out each body, he took samples with deft movements.  
"Start over with the heart." He murmured to himself. He dropped a slice of heart tissue into the sample-receptor box. The scope screen brought up a three dimensional picture of the sample. Lots of cell death was evident, but nothing else. He hit **Next Sample.** The heart tissue was atomized.

Upper cortex brain tissue. Nothing.

Thalamus. Nothing.

Liver. Ditto

Nothing, nothing, nothing.

The Doctor's brow was furrowed, his eyes wide. _There has to be _something,_dammit!_

Bone marrow. Nothing. Lung tissue. The picture of the aveiolli was blurry. The Doctor's eyebrow quirked.

"What's this?"

He brought the focus out further, getting a clear view of the gas-exchange sacs. Something caught his eye. He slipped on his glasses, looking closer.

"Now what's this?"

He moved the picture with a quick flick of the fingers. There was something crawling over the aveiolli. It was too large by half, and definitely not a human import. The size broke all the rules of earth-based microbiology.

"Hello, there." He murmured to the microbe. His heart beats picked up a notch. This might be it.

"Now what are you doing in the lung tissue? How did you ever get in there, then? I mean, the lungs aren't-" Then the Doctor's eyes widened. He straightened as the pieces pulled and twisted in his head. The pattern was working itself out. A word slipped between his lips unheeded as his mind worked.

"Sand."

Sand got everywhere around here. People breathed in the sand, and with it, this microbe. He jumped into action, taking more samples. The microbe was everywhere in the respiratory tract. How had he missed it?

Because all his traps had been set to catch smaller animals. He'd been expecting a virus. He'd been so intent on finding a rabbit that he'd missed the elephant.

Working quickly, he isolated a colony of the organisms, moving them to a culture vat he'd jerry-rigged from a protein compound and several fluid packets. He needed to see them in isolation, see if he was right.

He paced the floor, waiting for them to readjust, then rushed them to the microscope, resetting it for live viewing.

Well, he was right and wrong. They were obviously pumping out the compound. Yet it wasn't just a microbe, but a symbiosis between an alga and a fungus. It was thriving in the culture, growing rapidly. As he watched, the fungi began to separate from the algae. The Doctor's forehead furrowed.

"Odd."

He checked the sample solution, making sure that he hadn't accidentally messed up the combination. He moved the sample to the side. As he did, a flask of water fell, spilling into the vat.

"No no no!!!" The Doctor rushed the sample back to the microscope. Where a few microbes had separated before, now every single microbe had parted company.

The last piece clicked into place in the Doctor's head.

"That's it!!!!" Grinning, he rushed out of the morgue. He encompassed both gunmen in a wide smile.

"Hello, boys! I need to speak to your second in command, thanks, right about now."

"He's occupied. You can't talk to him."

"Odd, 'cause that's what I'm going to do. Come along if you're coming!" He took off running, his guards pounding after him. His eyes scanned the milling throng in the front of the combine, hunting for Pethrin.

"Doctor!"

He glanced to the side, and another grin crossed his thin face.

"Maggie! Grand, you can give me a hand convincing these dolts. I've figured it out, got it all now!!! Beautiful, just beautiful!"

"What? What have you found?"

"The cause, the reason this is all happening! It's so intricate, it's beautiful! It's all in the details see. Look around for Pethrin, he's got to be somewhere."

"What are you talking about?" Doctor Orn asked, pushing her way past his guards, who gave each other identical looks of bewilderment.

"This whole situation! It was all in the details! Microbes in the lungs! Odd little buggers too. Fungi-algae symbiosis. Perfect for this planet, good system. When they're dry they're bound together, but the minute they hit water bingo, they come apart and the fungus starts pumping out compounds. Odd thing is they're dying off, really the only problem was their staggering numbers, they act like they really designed to be in symbiosis with something all the time, odd, bu-oh, symbiosis! Good system! The fungus protects the algae when it's dry and the algae provides food. So it rained lately, right? Rained just enough to wake the little lads up, then they're carried in to your lungs on the grains of sand, and bob's your uncle! And you'll be getting more of it soon, I can feel the pressure dropping in here like anything. Lucky Jenny doesn't run on adrenalin. Where is Jenny? Anyway, I'm assuming they live in localized colonies, because if they were ubiquitous in the soil your crop plantings would have given the wakeup call. Ooh, colonies! I'm so thick! Designs on those domes! Probably for these creatures! But why…"

THUD.

Something rapped against the side of the combine. Heads snapped. The combine froze.

"What the-"

"Shush!" the Doctor hissed. His eyes riveted themselves on the wall, his voice a tight murmur.

"Of course. Details again. They're coming together."

THUD-THUD-THUD

"The microbes are dependant symbiots that only activate in wet conditions."

THUD

"Symbiots that produce stimulatory chemicals."

THUD-THUD

"Why? It doesn't help them evolutionarily." He turned to follow the sound up the wall.

THUD-THUD-THUD

"Unless they're symbiotic with something that needs it."

THUD.

"The things in the domes. Made to last forever." The Doctor's dark eyes were huge. "But not _offerings._ Archeologists get it wrong again."

"What?" Orn whispered, staring at the Doctor. He gave her a glanced that was more than a little condescending.

"Isn't it obvious?"

THUD. The sound reached the far end of the combine.

Silence.

Then the sound of Jackro's voice cut through the hall.

"Ambush! Ambush, we're under attack!"

The screams and shouts resumed as the MOF grabbed their guns and masks, boiling out of the combine.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Jenny pulled another wire. Last carrier. She'd pulled off her under-shirt and tied it across the lower half of her face. Still, her throat was starting to burn.

Three wires to go.

She glanced towards the combine, shielding her eyes ineffectively with a hand as she tried to squint into the dark.

Movement.

She peered more intently. There. Against the wall. Three figures. Something leapt in her chest. Had her message gotten through?

No. It was only three figures, walking along the long flank of the combine. They were-she squinted-_patting_ the wall of the building. Jenny blinked, her head cocked. The action made no sense. No sense at all.

_What's going on?_

Then they'd reached the edge of the combine. And kept walking. The dark swallowed them up.

Jenny's mind began to work up scenarios. But the exercise was cut short as the combine door opened, loosing a wedge of light and a crowd of MOF.

Jenny dropped to her belly, rolling beneath the carrier. She could just hear footsteps under the howl of the wind. Running feet. And the MOF had thermo-goggles.

Grabbing a strut of the carrier's undercarriage in both hands and wedging her feet under another, she pulled her body tight against the hot underside of the machine.

Feet raced up and down the line of vehicles. She heard several motors cough and sputter as they tried to start.

Jenny counted the running pairs of feet she could just see.

_One. Two. Six. Ten. Uh-oh. More than twenty. Can't fight, then._

_**Detection will result in neutralization.**_

Jenny held herself still against the molded metal.

_Breathe. Just breathe. _

......................................................................................................................

Grant came through the door after his men, pulling away his goggles. He hadn't gotten his mask off before Captain Jackro was in front of him.

"Pethrin! Who was overseeing the carriers?"

"Ashton, sir."

Before Grant could say another word, his captain had whirled around, passing through his milling men. He marched up to pale little Ashton, and backhanded him across the mouth.

"Captain!" What was Jackro _doing_?

_It's bad now in him, and it's going to get worse._

Pethrin rushed to his captain's side. Maybe…he didn't want to believe it, but maybe…

Jackro had grabbed Ashton's collar, dragging him upright.

"Look at this!" he yelled, shaking the slight man, "This is the face of a man who failed in his duty! Why weren't you on guard?!!"

Ashton coughed and choked.

"Captain." Grant spoke as reasonably as he could. "You called the men inside to give your briefing. Everyone, you said."

Jackro's wide eyes moved to his face. The man's powerful chest was heaving. He dropped Ashton, kicking him once.

"Return to your duties! The carriers have been sabotaged! The enemy's taken advantage, and we have to strike! Ashton, I said get up!"

Pulling loose his gun, he stormed forward.

"Men, the carriers have been put out of commission, so we will remove the nav computers and go on foot. And the enemy is all around. We have to have defense. Defense! Get everyone who can walk up and moving! The enemy wouldn't dare shoot at their own people! Yes, it'll work! We have to move fast now, before they're on to us." He stood in the circle of his men, sweating, the gun shaking in his hands. He whirled.

"Well, why aren't you moving? Move!!!"

The men stared. Grant stared. He wanted to look away, but his eyes couldn't tear themselves from the awful spectacle.

And then the man across the circle caught his eye. The Doctor, standing at the front of the crowd in his blue pinstripes. His dark eyes bored into Grant. The Lieutenant straightened. He'd known what he had to do ten minutes ago. Now he would do it. He took a step forward.

"Captain, I'm relieving you of duty."

For a moment, Jackro stared at his lieutenant. The room was silent.

Then he began to laugh. The laugh went on and on.

"Relieving me of duty? You can't. You can't relieve me."

Grant stood, still and calm. "Sir, I believe you are unfit for duty."

"Giving a Doctor's opinion, I'd have to agree." The Doctor stepped forward, hands in the pockets of his suit.

"You have an infection, Jackro. I know what I'm saying right now doesn't sound right. I know you're scared. You feel dizzy and your heart's pounding fit to burst. If you put the gun down, I can help you. In half an hour the medicine you need will be ready. Until then we can help you. Just put the gun down."

"You're trying to undermine this attack!!"

"I'm trying to save your life."

The words were low and reasonable. Yet they echoed in the still air.

"Seth Jackro, you need to listen to me. If you get much more upset you're going to go into cardiac arrest. You need to put the gun down. Let me help you."

"Stay away!" Jackro yelled. The gun came up again, shaking wildly in his hands. Dear God, why hadn't Grant seen the signs before this? Why had he explained it all away? It was so clear now.

The Doctor put a hand out towards the man. His eyes held Jackro's

"Let's stop this now. Before anyone gets hurt."

Jackro laughed again, his head falling back.

"Stop? Then what? Then what?!! Go back to grubbing like rats in a hole? We've had enough!" He whirled, staring at faces in turn.

"You have to understand! My men understand! It's all Arda's fault. He kept food from us. He landed us on the wrong planet! He kept us from going home!!!"

Silence.

"Do you want to go home, Seth?"  
"Yes!" The word was an almost anguished shriek. The Doctor nodded.

"Then I can help you. I have a ship here. It's not far away. Let me give you some medicine. Then I'll take you to it."

Jackro blinked, pressing one hand to his chest.

"I don't believe you!"

"I don't lie about my ship, Seth."

The Doctor couldn't be sure, but he thought he was getting through to the man, even barely lucid as he was. He was almost there, almost…

A man moved behind Jackro. With a cry the captain turned, his gun firing. The man dropped, clutching his shoulder. Screams and shouts erupted. He had to stop this.

"Everybody STOP!" He yelled. Bodies stilled. He opened his mouth, but Pethrin stepped forward before he could speak. Oh no. The man could very easily get himself shot. The Doctor could see him dying.

"Captain. You just wounded one of your men. That's not how a commander acts. You don't want to do this."

Jackro's tense face suddenly roiled into a grimace of rage.

"You're questioning my abilities as a captain! Undermining my authority! You want to be captain, don't you, you've wanted it all along!"

"No, sir." Pethrin stood calm. "I want what's best for my men."

Jackro snarled. The gun came up.

THUD. THUD THUD-THUD. Jackro glanced to the side, frightened for a moment. There was a flash of emotion. And there was Jenny, tensed, ready to spring. Panic rose in the Doctor's chest, a thing with claws and wings.

_Jenny, no, don't-_

Too late. With speed no human could match Jenny raced across the space, shoving Pethrin out of the way. Jackro swung at the girl, and Jenny deflected it easily. But the gun went off. Jenny clutched her arm, her balance thrown for a moment. And in that moment Jackro's adrenalin-boosted reflexes brought the gun up, pointed at Jenny. The time lines were changing. Now she died.

A gun. His daughter. His family. _Not again. _He saw it so many times, so many ways. He hadn't been able to stop it. He was never able to stop it. He had to stop it. Panic twisted itself into rage. _Not again!_

The Doctor began to run. As he did, he let time bend and warp around him. Time slowed, and he dashed through the space that was, for the moment, arrested mid-motion. In the moment it took the neural signal to travel from Jackro's brain to his hand, the Doctor crossed the intervening distance.

The gun went off.

The shot rang in the air, the bullet pinging off the floor. The Doctor held on the hand tight down. Jackro bucked and twisted in his hands. The Doctor twisted, and heard the faint sound of wrist bones snapping. Jackro howled, but he didn't stop. The adrenalin in his blood kept him fighting. He was like a mad thing. Nothing would hold him.

"I'll kill you!" He screeched. The Doctor ignored it, using all his wiry strength to hold the man.

But he wasn't yelling at the Doctor. He was fighting to get at Pethrin, at Jenny.

"Kill you!"  
He wasn't going to stop. Anger was running in the Doctor's blood like fire.

_Skin contact._

And he did something he hadn't done since the War. He broke into another sentient mind. Pushed aside the human defenses, forced his way into the gibbering maelstrom of the man's thoughts, right down to the screaming core.

_THAT IS ENOUGH!!!!_

He said it aloud, and he yelled it inside Jackro's head. And then he stripped all the alibis and explanations, the airs and graces that his mind had used as coping mechanisms away from Jackro. He made the man face just what he had done and what he was doing.

The gun dropped with a clatter. Jackro gave a small, broken sob, and fell in a heap. His heart had stopped. The Doctor stood, his frame taunt with savage satisfaction. He kicked the gun viciously, spinning it across the floor. This man had done so much damage, could have done so much damage…

"Father?"

He turned, catlike. Jenny stood white and still in the circle, a line of red tracing down her arm. Her eyes were wide. He realized what she saw. All his rage. All his darkness. The Storm.

Drawing a shuddering breath, he caged it again, shoving it deep down where it belonged.

The Doctor looked down, then. "Oh no you don't. Not that easy. You're going to live and face up…"

He dropped to his knees, delivering a quick electric shock with the sonic screwdriver. The man bucked, and breathed again.

"He'll live."

Then he strode to Jenny's side, checking her arm.

"Missed the artery." She murmured.

"It did that. Just a graze. Here-" He closed the wound with the dermal setting on his screwdriver. "That'll hold."

Then the Doctor looked over her face.

"You're all right."

She smiled, a remote turn of the lips.

For a moment, there was silence. Complete silence.

"The storm-" someone said.

The storm was over. The Doctor nodded.

"Jenny, do the rains come right after a dust-storm?"

Jenny thought-then nodded.

"I think so."  
Her father smiled.

"Want to see something?"

"What?"

THUD. THUD-THUD-THUD.

Jenny glanced at the source of the sound.

"That." The Doctor said. "Come on."

Father and daughter strode towards the door. Stepping outside, Jenny stared. The sky had returned, blanketed in blue-black, purple and silver, roiling on forever. A drop of rain hit the end of her nose.

"Oh, aren't you beautiful."

Jenny glanced at her father, ready to agree. But he wasn't looking at the sky. He was staring ahead, at-Jenny squinted to be sure-yes, a hole. A huge hole, at least two yards across, and the creature that had just climbed out of it. Vaguely humanoid in shape, the creature was tall, taller than her father, bones showing under brown-gold skin. It raised its arms over its head, staring up at the clouds. Then it looked at them-and froze.

THUD. THUD. As they stood, two more of the creatures walked around the side of the combine, still rapping and patting at it. They stared at Jenny and the Doctor, then loped on long legs to their fellow, embracing it, making complicated hand gestures.

"What are they doing?"

The Doctor glanced down at her, and grinned.

"They're saying good morning."

"Do you know what they are?"

"Not a clue. But I'll know in a minute. Come on."

_**Be prepared for hostile action in the face of unknown species.**_

Jenny ignored the Words. She followed her father. Striding across the space, the Doctor bowed low, then made several complicated gestures with his hands, accompanied by small monosyllabic sounds. The creatures responded in kind.

_If he doesn't know who they are, how does he know their language?_

The shush of the combine door made Jenny turn. People came filing out, marveling at the rain as it began to fall. Then, one by one, they noticed at the strange apparition in the road.

One of the tallest creatures stepped away from its fellows, staring down at the Doctor with wide sand-colored eyes. He smiled, and inscribed a wide circle with both his arms, before walking back towards the combine.

"Ladies and gents, this is Belk. He and his tribe, the People of the Circle, welcome you. They're very sorry about the trouble you had with their symbiotic fauna. And they'd like to ask, in very friendly fashion, why you built on top of their school."


	9. Chapter 9

9

"All primary dosages administered."

The Doctor glanced at her, smiling lightly.

"Thanks, Soldier. These blockers are working better than I had hoped. How's the picnic?"

"The what?"

"How's everyone outside? Getting along all right?"

Jenny shrugged. "Aside from the fact that they can't understand each other, sure."  
The Doctor smiled. "Malto bene. The fact they don't understand each other probably helps. Gets them intrigued. So, we can get moving in a few hours."He looked away, pulling out another vial and pouring liquid into it.

"Yes." Jenny took the vial, her eyes far away. "Moving."

"Mm-hmm. Back to the TARDIS."

"What's it like?"

"Hmm?"

Jenny capped the vial with a needle.

"The TARDIS. What's it like?"

"Oh, you'll see."

"Will we need fuel?"

He smiled, shaking his head.

"TARDIS's don't take fuel. Well, at least not in the way you're thinking of it."

The dim light played over his fingers as he worked. The day cycle should have started, but Doctor Orn had reset the combine controls for the night shift again, giving the patients a chance to sleep and recover. For the first time in days, Combine Six was peaceful. Everyone in good health had gone outside, sitting on blankets on the ground and trying to converse with the People of the Circle. The Doctor had said that under the Species Ratification Act they were called the Tya. Jenny kind of liked them. They were calm, and incredibly patient. There weren't many species that would give such a warm welcome to squatters. The Doctor handed her another vial.

"Those late cases will need this third dose. And that next set has started synthesizing, mmm, looks good. I'll write up a set of instructions on how to create it. That and a little sleep should set everyone right. Though the next time this season comes around the problem will pop up again. We'll have to get that message to Earth for them. Right, I think our job's done in here. Let's get to the party, then."

Jenny set down the tools so fast that they clattered, and followed her father, eager for the fresh air. Soon she'd outstripped him, half-jogging past the beds, past the high stack of weapons the former rebels had discarded, and out the door.

Outside, the mood was almost festive. People had spread blankets on the ground, and everyone who could was sitting under the bright sky, talking and laughing. Some of the officers were trying their best to converse with the People, though their attempts weren't too successful if their furrowed brows were anything to go by. Her father was shaking his head, a small smile on his lips.

Over to the left, Kote waved a hand.

"Good! Spot open over here!"

Jenny smiled, and began to pick her way over to Kote. She gave the sign she'd picked up for 'a pleasant day' to several of the People as she passed, and dropped down on Kote's blanket.  
"Thanks, Kote." She glanced over her shoulder, spotting her father where he sat, chatting with a few of the People in their quick sign language.

"Try some of these." Kote said, pointing at the small tray of food, "The People broke 'em out, and they're great."

"Thanks." She took a cone shaped pastry. It was delicious.

"So, you're going to be leaving?" Kote asked between bites.

"Yep." Taking another bite, Jenny glanced around. "Patients are okay, and we got all those carriers fixed. Funny, it's such a lot easier to break something than to fix it." She bit into another pastry. "An' I'll have to report to Combine One. Tell command."

Kote nodded. "They'll have trouble covering for you. You're going to be missed around here."

Jenny glanced at him. "Thanks, Kote."

He shrugged, looking out over the crowd.

Jenny let her eyes wander. She saw friends all over. She was going to miss them. All of them.

"I learned a lot here."

Kote swallowed another bite. "I bet you'll learn a bit from your dad now. He knows some pretty fine martial arts. Do me a favor, ask him how he flattened Jackro like that."

Jenny nodded absently. "I'll have to do that."

After a moment, Jenny glanced at Kote.

"You will be okay, won't you?"

Kote laughed, startled. "You say weird things, Good. 'Course we'll be okay. And Earth will come and pick us up soon."

"Actually, I don't think that'll be necessary." The Doctor dropped down beside Jenny, long fingers snapping up three of the pastries.

"Great cooks, aren't these folks? You lot could learn a bit from them. Ooh, love these little round ones. Lovely. Everything's lovely today. An' the former MOF have reconnected the communication lines, so everybody's on their way down here from all your other combines. It'll be easier to have the conversations all in one place. It's been an odd morning for the People. Imagine waking up from your dry-season nap to find all these weird little pink and brown people walking around over your heads. Don't think I'd have taken it near as well as they have. You know, they even got a few colonists down their holes. Try that when you're just getting out of bed."

"Bed?" Kote said.

"What were they doing in holes in the first place?" Jenny asked.

"Aestivating." Her father said between bites. "Dry-season hibernation. It's the cycle on this planet, see. The rains stops for a few years, and so they each get a nice burrow all set up, seal it on top, and sleep on through. They shut off all hormone production, least that's what they told me, until the microbes in the soil 'round them are woken up with a little water, get breathed in and start giving off that little stimulation package. The fungi is symbiotic with the Tya, y'see. As long as a Tya has enough water, the fungi stay awake and producing. But once they dry out, the fungi bind with the algae and make their way out of the body, waiting for the rain again. When the bugs get water, it's the People's alarm clock. Then they just dig themselves out and open their storage units up again. Beautiful system. Only problem was that you lot landed in the middle of it. Mm, these little rods taste a bit like ladyfingers. Very nice."

Kote leaned over.

"Sir, what you said just now. Why won't calling Earth be necessary?"  
"Hmm?" The Doctor looked up, both cheeks full. Swallowing mightily, he answered.

"Oh. The People are going to give you a lift to your original planet allotment, help you get set up, in exchange for your help repairing the damage your archeologists did. And their ships are quite a lot faster than the ones they've got on Earth right now. See why I don't like archeologists by the way, Jenny?" He took another bite.

"Really?" Kote's eyes were wide.

"Mm hmm. Never have gotten on with- oh, the other thing. Yep, once that big grayish lad over there got the gist of the whole situation, he was quite obliging. Once Arda gets down here they'll finish the discussion. Should work quite nicely. Oh, Kote, you're supposed to pop inside an' help out for a bit, Maggie says."

"Oh, right." Kote stood. For a moment, he held himself awkwardly. Jenny cocked her head. He was full of nervousness, a little sadness too.

"Well, if I don't see you again…bye, Good."

"Oh." She hadn't realized they would have to say goodbye so soon. He'd been a friend for months. How did she say goodbye to him, just like that? She started to get up-then sat back, giving him a tiny smile. "Bye, Kote."

He shot her another quick smile, stepping away. Suddenly, Jenny jumped to her feet.

"Kote!"

She hugged him tightly.

"I'm gonna miss…just everybody. Say it for me, can you. Say good bye to everybody inside for me?"

He hugged her like a sister.

"Yeah, Jenny. I will."

They parted, shaking hands.

"Good luck."

"You too."

Jenny dropped back into her spot on the blanket, watching her friend disappear into the combine.

"They'll take forever packing the whole colony up again." She said.

Her father nodded. "Yep. But they'll have plenty of help."

Jenny's eyes wandered over the crowd, ever expanding as people arrived from other combines.

"Are they going to be okay now? Really okay?" She barely noticed her father watching her out of the corner of his eye.

"Oh yes. Future looks very bright, far as I can see from this moment. Speaking of packing, how much do you need to pack?"

Jenny shrugged.

"Not much. Almost everything's up in Combine Four. I can ask some of the guys to bring stuff down for me on their way."  
"Good plan." His eyes were light and calm. There was no sign of the darkness she had seen in them before, the blackness that had made him flicker like flame. She nodded.

"I'll see to it."

"No rush. Well, maybe a bit of rush, someone's getting impatient. But it'll keep. Nice to see everyone recovering."

"Yep." Jenny was uncomfortable, he could feel it. She drew a breath.

"And what about-"

He glanced at her. "About what?"

"Jackro."

"Ah." The Doctor took another roll.

"He'll recover. Ever find out what his proof was?"

"Couple of radio transmissions. Guess they might have sounded weird if you took them out of context."

"Sad what people will take for proof, innit?"

"Yep."

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Laughter rippled on the air. People who had been terrified were now telling the stories of their night to friends from other combines.

"Father?"

"Yep?"

"What did you do to Jackro?"

He paused-then looked her in the eye. She could see pain and something else there.

"I did something I really shouldn't have done. I got inside his head. Made him face his own actions. Very very rash of me. I wasn't thinking quite clear, heat of the moment, I suppose. Bit of a mistake."

"And…how'd you do it?"

He gave her a small, tight smile.

"Oh, that's a question that'd take days to answer. Basically it's psychokinetic energy. Sort of like electricity; all brains run on bioelectricity of one kind of another. Get the energy at the right wavelength and you can work within the neural system. Change things, affect things. But it takes a lot of practice, believe me. I'll explain it in better detail when we've got the time."

"Oh." She glanced up.

"I think I can understand."

""M sure you can. Once you know the information. I saw how fast you learned on Messaline."

Jenny shook her head.

"I made several serious tactical errors that day."

The Doctor shrugged, the breeze ruffling his dark hair.

"Ah, what do you expect? You were only-what-three or four hours old at the time. In normal terms you'd…" her father's brown eyes widened, and he smacked a hand against his forehead.

"Few hours! Less than fifteen hours into life! Oh, that's it! Ha! No wonder!"

"What?" Jenny asked. Her father grinned at her puzzled face.

"Explains why you were able to rebuild internally without-oh, right, that's one more lesson for you, biology and anatomy one-oh-one. Brilliant! Just brilliant."

"What's brilliant?"

"Tell you in a bit."

Jenny's fine jaw set.

"You know you've got a lot that you have to tell me 'in a bit.'"

He glanced at her, puzzled. Then his brow cleared.

"Oh, Jenny, I'm not trying to get out of telling you! In fact, I'm trying very hard not to talk too much, and you don't know how hard that is for me, you really don't. I'm waiting because I want to be able to explain all these things to you properly, in detail. I'm always giving people partial and half-baked explanations, just to get them to shut up and do what's right. But you, you need to learn these things front, back and sideways. And I want to start at the beginning and explain it the way you need to understand it. All right?"

Jenny's eyes studied his earnest face pensively. Then relief washed through her thoughts. She smiled.

"All right." She sat back, eyes dancing over the crowd. She felt a bit different now. More relaxed. Confident and happy. She sat up.

"Oh, there's the lot from Combine One! They'll be bringing that message they want us to relay. Should I go receive it?"

The Doctor nodded. "If y'like."

"See you in a minute, then." She shot him a grin, jogging off. The Doctor watched her go. For all that soldier stuff in her head, she was so young.

There was a tap on his shoulder, and he turned to see Rek, the eldest of the tribe.

Rek's hands moved, his eyes calm and pleased.

'The lightning-child learns our language fairly well. She comes of good stock.'

The Doctor inclined his head, acknowledging the compliment.

'I thank you. Why do you call her lightning-child?'

The old man's grey-green eyes were amused.

'She is the color of the lightning in the black rain clouds.'

The Doctor smiled. _Hah. Lightning in the storm._

'It is appropriate for her. And I thank you again for your aid to these people. They will fare well on this other world.'

'We are pleased to do what we can. They are good folk, from what we see. And strong. They faced the winds and the dry times. They have done much.'

'Will it take you long to move them?'

'Not long. Not when the others awake. And you, healing-man? Will you go with them?'

The Doctor moved his hand to the side, a negative. 'No. I am not of them. My child and I will go our own way. She has much to learn.'

The man nodded, taking a pastry in his wide six-jointed fingers.

'I can see that. Be it well for you.'

The Doctor smiled, inscribing a wide circle with his palm that translated 'As the Wheel of Life wills.' Rek nodded, straightening his stringy haunches as he stood.

'As it wills, healing-man. Go well.'

The Doctor grabbed another pastry. _All these goodbyes, all at once. Rum old universe.  
_ He sat, watching the crowd talk and laugh, trying to figure out sign-language, tentatively reaching out to the People, and almost as uncertainly to the men that had formed the MOF. Friends who hadn't seen each other for years began to reconcile, new friendships began to form. _Actually, not all goodbyes. Plenty of hellos here too._

He almost jumped at the 'thunk' beside him. Jenny stood over him, leaning on a duffle bag that had obviously seen better days.

"Here's everything except my weapon."

The Doctor stood. "Which you're not taking."

Jenny's eyes narrowed.

"I'm not leaving my gun."

"Yes, you are."

"It's seen me through three years." Her jaw set.

"And now you don't need it."

"I _do_."

For a second, they locked eyes. Her ideas poured out. Her gun was a companion to her, a comfort, a mark of who she was. It was a very dangerous security blanket. The Doctor's eyes deepened as he understood. _She identifies so strongly with that thing. It'll hurt her to lose that part of herself. Well. Maybe as she ages, she won't need it._

The Doctor still didn't like it, and he let it show in the weary expression on his face. But his thin shoulders rose in a shrug.

"Well, I had a friend once who carried explosives. I suppose..." He pointed a long finger at her. "But you're not wearing it when we travel, got it? That's flat."

Jenny nodded, her eyes bright.

"Yes, Father. Flat."

He nodded towards the combine, eyebrows raised, dark eyes impatient.

"Well, go get it then. We've got a long walk ahead of us. Haven't got all day."

……………………………………………………………………………………

The sun was just setting as they crested another hill.

"There she is." The Doctor said, pointing at a small blue structure that stood, stark in contrast to the grass.

Jenny glanced up at her father.

"That's your ship?"

"Yep."

Jenny studied it, head cocked-then strode towards it. She couldn't see any source of propulsion, no lift valves or rockets.

"How does it get off the ground?" she asked over her shoulder. Strolling behind her, the Doctor smiled slightly.

"Oh, through a very complicated, very intricate, and ever so slightly mad system."

"Does it use Irion? Or warp-shunt?"

He shook his head, smiling. "Not even close."

Jenny ticked over possibilities in her mind, glancing at the indecipherable writing that ran around the top of the box. Maybe it was sola-metal. She touched one blue wall. It was warm.

A strange feeling ran through the back of her mind, shivering down her spine. She felt almost like she was seeing something she knew, like meeting a friend. And yet she'd never felt anything like it before. She shivered, blinked, staring at the blue-white light on the roof as it pulsed. Her eyes roved down to the backlit words, her head cocking.

"Police."

_I can read it._

"Police. Call. Box."

She turned, looking at her father in surprise. "Your ship translated for me."

The Doctor smiled at her, hands deep in the pockets of his long coat. "Yep. Think it likes you."

"Is it…has your ship got a Babel circuit?" Good Babel circuits were fairly rare. And this one had to be excellent, since there was no accompanying headache.

"Nah." Her father said, "What would a TARDIS need a Babel circuit for? Be rather redundant." He reached into a pocket, pulling out a key on a long string. He unlocked one of the double doors and pushed it open, talking all the time.

"Be like having two dictionaries that say exactly the same thing. Well, actually not the same thing, b'cause the TARDIS knows a lot more than any little circuit. Gets inside your head, actually, helps things along, translates languages. Must be taken with you, it must, interfacing with you that fast. Well, I already knew it liked you, I mean it went out of control just to get me to you the first time. And now that I think of it, this time too. Little sneakier, but about the same. She's got a tricky system. This model always had that reputation." He stepped inside.

"This model?" she asked, following. She hoped the padding inside this shuttle was at least…

Jenny froze. She'd been expecting a small shuttle, just big enough for two or three people. Instead, she was standing on a ramp that led into a large, circular room. Her eyes flickered, observing everything, analyzing. The walls curved in a soaring dome, covered in bronze rectangular panels marked with lines of-were those lights? Gun ports? Lights, they glowed just a bit-soared overhead, supported by four branching columns-were those metal? Reddish stone?- that shone in the diffuse amber light of the room. The ramp she stood on connected to a circular grating formed of-she counted them with a glance-thirteen wedges. She stepped up, testing the grating under her feet. Through the grating she could see lights, wires, machinery- but it was the shape in the center of the room that drew her eyes. A great glass column stood in the heart of the room, glowing a soft blue-green. Encircling it was a round console that looked at first to be made of bronze fittings, black cables and blue-green light. A monitor faced her, the screen covered in complex circles. Jenny took a step closer. A sound that wasn't quite a sound filled the air, a low, lovely hum in her head. It was like listening to a song just out of her range of hearing. The light… her feet moved forward almost of their own volition. Something was opening up in her chest, in her head. She stared, and somehow she felt that it looked _back_. She stepped closer, the blue-green light glinting on her hair, making it glow like starlight.

_It's like…like it's welcoming me._

"Four Hundred level TTX Type Forty Mark One model Time And Relative Dimension In Space capsule." Her father's voice rang softly through the room.

"Jenny, meet the TARDIS."

Jenny reached out, one hand brushing the trim of the console. "Hello." She murmured. A little tingle ran up her fingers.

Her father stepped up beside her, and she looked up at him. He smiled, his dark eyes catching the sparkle of the console lights.

_My father. My father's ship. _ Jenny couldn't describe, even to herself, the things she was feeling. It was like something had unfurled itself in her chest, shot energy to the tips of her fingers.

"What do you think?" her father asked.

"It's…it's…" She didn't know how to say what she thought.

"I've never seen a ship like this."

Her father laid a hand on the console, long fingers running between the buttons. "You wouldn't. It's one of a kind."

Then he moved around her, stepping to the left.

"So, Jenny, where will it be? You've now got the universe at your fingertips. Anywhere that you'd like to go? Anywhere at all."

Jenny turned, watching him.

"Anywhere?"

"Anywhere, anywhen." The Doctor said. "Anything that you've heard of that you want to see. Hang your gun on the hat rack, stick your duffle under the chair thanks. The trip can get a bit bumpy."

Jenny obeyed the order, moving in a daze. _Anywhere. Any when._

"How can we go any _when?_" she asked, turning. Her father leaned against the console.

"Because this is a TARDIS. Travels in time."

"Oh. All right." She strode back to the console.

"Then-how about the Great City of Crisprarax? Can we go there?"

Her father grinned widely.

"You've been reading Artemisia ballads, haven't you?"

Jenny nodded, abashed.

"Brilliant! I love those. Crisprarax it is then."

He began moving around the console, flipping switches, pushing buttons. Then he seemed to freeze. He turned back to her.

"Jenny, come over here."

She stepped to his side. He put one of her hands on a long bar, and the other on a small button.

"That's the primary grava-stabilizer. Hold it. And that's the handbrake. When I say, pull it down."

Jenny nodded. She was just beginning to take in what this room was, all that it was, all that it meant.

"What's the brake for?" she asked.

"Holds us to one place in spacetime." The Doctor said, looking at the monitor. "You pull it and the TARDIS will dematerialize into the Vortex. I'll explain the rest once we're in flight, if you're interested in learning."

"Oh I am!" Jenny said, her grin incandescent. "I want to learn-oh, everything, I guess."

Her father looked up, and grinned in reply.

"Oh, you will. I said it once, and I'll say it again. You'll be amazing." He twisted a ball on the console, then looked up again.

"Pull."

And Jenny pulled the hand break. The sound that rose from the ship's workings was both the strangest she'd ever heard, and the most wonderful.

**Acknowledgements: If you liked this story, please thank Alcibie and Sharper than the Sword, who encouraged, checked over, and kept it from going to pot or the dump. Thanks, guys. And thanks everybody who reviewed. **


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